


Forest Primeval

by shadowwalker213



Category: The A-Team (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-03
Updated: 2018-06-09
Packaged: 2019-05-17 14:40:35
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 21
Words: 29,698
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14834195
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowwalker213/pseuds/shadowwalker213
Summary: Hannibal leads the team into the Canadian wilderness to stop a gang of poachers, confident as usual that things will go according to plan...





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Takes place around 1977
> 
> Originally published January 2005

For the strength of the Pack is the Wolf, and the strength of the Wolf is the Pack. - Rudyard Kipling  
  
*****  
  
Gordon Benford stood nervously in front of the laundry. This was supposedly the final step he had to take, and thinking of the possible consequences to not only himself, but his family, he debated whether to open that door or not. Well, he hadn't come almost 2000 miles and gone through a gauntlet of odd characters and out-of-the-way places just to turn tail and run. Nerving himself, he pushed the door open and stepped in.  
  
At first he thought no one was in the shop, until an elderly Chinese man popped up from behind the counter. They stared at each other for a few moments before the older man spoke.  
  
"I help you?"  
  
Gordon started to answer, couldn't, cleared his throat. "I was told to talk to a Mr. Lee. Are you he?"  
  
"Yes, I Mr. Lee. What you want?"  
  
"I need to get in touch with the A-Team. Can you help me?"  
  
Mr. Lee looked closely at Gordon. "Maybe. Maybe not. Why you want this A-Team?"  
  
Gordon sighed. He'd been through this story so many times already. "I need help getting rid of a bunch of poachers who are killing black bears."  
  
"Mounties not help you?"

"They're trying but they don't have the manpower...how did you know about the Mounties? Who are you?"

Mr. Lee didn't answer his questions, only smiled and motioned to the back of the shop. "This way, please, Mr. Benford." He had suddenly lost his accent.  
  
Gordon moved behind the counter and through a doorway. In the backroom, he saw three other men waiting. The first a muscular black man with a Mohawk haircut; another, wearing a baseball cap, was idly moving his hand in the air, as if petting something; the third, a slim blond, looked back at him with a confident smile.  
  
Mr. Lee followed him in, pulling off his wig and glasses after closing the door. Indicating each of the three men, he introduced Gordon to them. "This is BA Baracus, H.M. Murdock, and Templeton Peck. I'm Hannibal Smith. Now, you want to give us a few more details about these poachers of yours, Mr. Benford?"  
  
Gordon had one more moment of hesitancy before plunging ahead.  
  
"The area I live in is almost total wilderness. A few towns along the main highways, otherwise mountains, forests, a few scattered lakes and rivers. Beautiful, wild country. In fact, just two years ago they opened a huge wildlife park just north of us.  
  
"The last couple of months, though, we've had trouble with a gang of poachers. There are always some now and again, but these guys are staying. They move around, and seem to know how to live in that kind of country without being seen. They're also becoming more and more bold as time goes on. Some of the shooting is getting close to the few homesteaders that live out there. Not to mention the havoc they're wreaking on the bear population of the area."  
  
"They're poaching bears? Why? Fur?"  
  
"No, body parts. In traditional Chinese medicine," he glanced ironically at Hannibal, "nearly every part is thought to have some use. The gall bladder is the most valuable, used as a remedy for a whole array of problems. The price per ounce is about 20 times the street price of cocaine."  
  
"Good Lord."  
  
"Yes, which is why there's so much poaching worldwide. I can't do anything about that, but I really would like to put a stop to it in my little part of the world. Especially now."  
  
"Now?"  
  
"Somehow they found out that I was working with the Mounties - reporting the areas where the poachers left evidence of their slaughter, or where they'd had their camps. After the government authorized a reward for their capture, they started making threats against me, and my family. Two days ago, they left a bear's head on the hood of my truck. Luckily I found it before my kids did. But if they're getting that brazen..."  
  
"Understood, Mr. Benford. Any idea how many there are?"  
  
"Not precisely, but from the campsites I've found, I'd estimate no more than four or five. But like I said, they know how to survive out there. It's rough country."  
  
"The Mounties have any idea who they might be?"  
  
"They're guessing the leader is a fella named Rick Spiro. Apparently it's not the first time he's been involved in this type of thing."  
  
"Well, fellas, what do you think?" Hannibal looked around the room, knowing already what the answer would be.  
  
"Whereabouts is this place?" Murdock looked up from petting Billy, having noted that Gordon had ignored his gestures.  
  
"British Columbia. Northern BC, actually."  
  
"Oh, wow, communing with Mother Nature! Conversing with Flora and her sister, Fauna! Saving the bears of Jellystone! Dudley Do-Right, reporting for duty, SAH!" Murdock jumped up and smartly saluted.  
  
"Oh, no..." groaned BA. "Count me in, Hannibal. Don't like guys cuttin off animal heads or puttin 'em where little kids can see 'em." He glared at Murdock. "But if the Fool's gonna be pullin this Dudley Do-Right thing..."  
  
Ignoring the comment, Hannibal looked over at his XO. "Face?"  
  
"Going to be expensive, Hannibal. Travel expenses, plus the gear we'll need for an area like that, supplies for an extended stay..."  
  
"That's not necessarily a problem. I mean, if you can wait for the reward. It's not a large amount, except it's for each poacher captured, not just the whole gang. If you get all of them, it would really add up."  
  
"Sounds good to me, Face. We're not wanted in Canada, after all."  
  
Face just shrugged his shoulders. The idea of tramping around the Canadian wilderness did not exactly appeal to him, but it was for a good cause.  
  
"Okay, Mr. Benford." Hannibal grinned, the Jazz already starting to simmer. "You've just hired the A-Team!"


	2. Chapter 2

"Benford wasn't kidding about it being wild country, Hannibal. Once we get to, uh, Fort Babine, there is no way to get where we're going, other than flying, horseback, or walking. Hell, Hannibal, even if we fly in, it'll take a day's hike just to get close to where these guys are operating."  
  
"That a problem for you, Face?" Hannibal looked at his XO, recognizing the familiar grumble in the voice. While he always appreciated Face bringing up the practicalities of their missions, he also knew that anything involving drudgery or strenuous exercise was like poison to the younger man. Hannibal usually found it amusing. "You know, after we catch these guys, we should stay up there for a few days. Sounds like a great way to brush up on our survival skills, not to mention general training." His eyes glittered as he waited for the inevitable reaction.  
  
"Aww, Hannibal..."  
  
The Colonel chuckled as he sauntered away from the desk, scattered with maps and lists that Face had been working on. Despite the complaints, Hannibal always felt confident that Face would look at every detail in planning their trips and make sure they had the equipment and supplies necessary. He never worried when Face was "doing his thing", but he liked to keep him on his toes, anyway.  
  
He stood at the window of the apartment, watching BA work on the van. If they drove straight through, it was almost a thirty-four-hour drive to Fort Babine. BA was making sure the van was ready. Not that he really had to check it. The van was kept at peak performance, always. BA seemed to believe that what didn't need to be fixed, needed to be tweaked. Again, Hannibal had a feeling of total confidence in his sergeant. He almost felt bad about the syringe sitting in his bag, but there was no way he was riding in a van for 34 hours.  
  
He moved away from the window and into the kitchen, grabbing a Heineken from the refrigerator. Murdock was bouncing around the stove to some unknown song, getting a large roast ready to toss in the oven. A battered Mountie's hat had replaced the customary baseball cap. Where the pilot found his 'props', Hannibal was never sure. But then, when it came to Murdock, Hannibal was rarely sure anyway. The only thing he always knew was, put that man in a cockpit and he was pure, solid gold.  
  
Hannibal had two worries with Murdock on this particular trip. For one thing, Murdock was a pilot. He'd never received the intensive survival training the rest of them had, and, even in Nam, had not had a need for it. Not that Murdock was a babe in the woods. He had had the standard survival training in case he went down, and had no problem when training with the team, but Hannibal had never felt quite the confidence in Murdock as he had in BA or Face. It was a little thing, really. Just something to keep in mind.  
  
The other worry was the plane. They would have to use a floatplane due to the terrain, and he knew Murdock had never flown one.  
  
"Uh, Murdock, about the plane. You know anything about floatplanes? Like, landing on water?"  
  
"Not to worry, Colonel. A Mountie is always prepared. I have studied the literature and I am, in said Mountie preparedness, prepared. I'll have us sitting on that lake like a silver swan..."  
  
"Uh, I think it's the Boy Scouts that are always prepared."  
  
"Same idea. Different uniform." Murdock grinned at him before returning to the roast.  
  
"Uh, right, Murdock." Hannibal watched him for another moment before heading back to the living room. Sometimes you just had to go on faith...  
  
*****  
  
"Murdock?"  
  
"Yeah, Face?"  
  
"We're not slowing down, Murdock...the shore is getting pretty close, Murdock..."  
  
"I see that, mon ami. Just a slight mis...cal...culation..."  
  
*****  
  
"Everyone all right?" Hannibal looked over at BA. He was still sleeping peacefully, not bothered a bit that his seat was tilting forward at a nearly 45 degree angle.  
  
"Face? Murdock?"  
  
"We're okay, Hannibal." Face's voice was very much aggrieved but steady.  
  
"Just a mite discombobulated, Colonel."  
  
"All right, let's get the gear out of here. We've got a long way to go yet."  
  
It took some time for the men to extricate themselves and their supplies from the plane, which sat, tail pointing toward the eastern sky, nose buried deep in the reddish soil. Once Hannibal and Face had maneuvered BA out of his seat and onto the ground, they joined Murdock at the front of the plane. He was sadly looking at the bent prop, murmuring soft apologies to the aircraft.  
  
"Well, Captain? What happened?"  
  
"Sorry, mon Colonel. I failed to adequately adjust for that one little difference between floatplanes and regular planes."  
  
"And that would be?"  
  
"No brakes."  
  
"Ah. Yeah, that would explain things." Hannibal looked at the damaged prop. "I don't suppose there's any way of fixing that?"  
  
"No, that's not likely, Hannibal. Even if we could fix it, that nosedive into the ground created some functional irregularities in the engine compartment - a compacting of components, if you get my drift."  
  
"Hmm." Hannibal sighed. He could get angry at the pilot, but there was really no point in that now. Besides which, he'd known Murdock had never flown one of these things before and put him in the cockpit anyway. You don't blame the soldier for a command decision. "Well, okay, let's get BA out of here before he wakes up and sees..."  
  
"Hannibal! That's a plane! You put me on a plane! A plane that crashed! I crashed in a plane!..."  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal checked their map one more time. He liked to keep a close eye on where they were supposed to be when in strange areas. They were slowly moving toward the last place evidence of the poachers had been found, still a good ten miles. At the rate they were moving, over rough terrain with full packs, it would take them at least five or six hours. Well, Benford had warned them.  
  
"Okay, Face, you take point. And remember what Benford said about the traps." Face looked at him with some annoyance. Hannibal grinned back.  
  
Their client had been full of warnings specific to the area they were moving through, not the least of which were the bears they were trying to protect. He'd also warned them about bear traps - huge ugly leghold traps that could snap a man's limb - left by trappers, both legal and illegal. Hannibal finally had to remind Benford that they were, after all, Viet Nam vets and knew how to look out for hazards.  
  
He watched as Face shouldered his pack and headed out. BA followed a few yards behind, with Murdock between him and Hannibal. BA was silent, as usual, conserving his energy for the long hike ahead of them. Murdock, Mountie hat perched severely on his head in contrast to the fatigues he and the others wore, was instructing him on the history and traditions of the RCMP.   
  
Hannibal grinned. He figured they'd have the poachers taken care of in two to three days. And then he planned on a few days R&R up here. It was indeed wild and beautiful.


	3. Chapter 3

Rick Spiro watched the plane fly overhead, unconcerned. In this country, it wasn't unusual. More and more tourists were coming to the newly opened national park north of them. As long as they kept going north, he didn't care.  
  
He turned and watched as his men finished gutting the bear. By the time they finished, there wouldn't be much left. Everything would then be carefully loaded onto the packhorses and moved to their camp. The next morning they would hand it over to the bush pilot, who would take it to their distributor. Within a few days, another nice little sum would be deposited into his account. Another few months and they would pack up for good. Head somewhere else. Spend their money and start all over again.  
  
"Hurry up, guys, we haven't got all day. And be careful with that shit. Customers don't pay for damaged goods." He lit a cigar, suddenly thinking of the man who had first turned him onto the things.  
  
Spiro had learned a lot from the Old Man. He'd admired him. Too bad the feeling hadn't been mutual. They just hadn't agreed on methods. Spiro didn't worry about civilians. Didn't worry about right and wrong, really. HQ wanted a bridge blown, he didn't care who was around when they blew it. Funny. He'd come back to the States with a 'rep', so he'd changed his name, brought together his old outfit, and set up shop, so to speak. Never been caught, never done time, thumbed his nose at the authorities. Nothing more than suspicions ever connected to him. And his old commander, "Colonel Conscience", was on the run for something everyone knew he hadn't done. Go figure.  
  
Spiro puffed again on the cigar, wondering where Smith was now.  
  
*****  
  
Face was behind BA, which typically was not a good place to be on a hike like this. BA had a habit of pushing back branches and expecting the guy behind to automatically catch them as they flew back. Since they all knew that's how it worked, they usually watched out for it. But Face had turned back to help Murdock with his pack, and, hurrying to catch up, caught one full force in the chest. He pulled himself up, catching his breath, and lit into BA, which should have told them something right there. But instead they all gave him a hard time about being out of shape, letting a little twig like that knock him down.  
  
Flustered, Face took over point and pushed like hell.Forging a trail, he pulled them ahead at a hard pace, taking the brunt of the heavy brush cover, stubbornly refusing to slow down. After nearly two hours, Face really needed a breather.  
  
Hannibal called a welcome relief. They were all feeling the effects of the altitude, not to mention the up and down climbing, sometimes in thick woods, sometimes on rocky hills. Hannibal sat heavily, glad to have the weight of his pack off. He sat straight, though, and calmly pulled out a cigar, watching the others. He liked to keep an eye on them. Not that he'd say anything.  
  
Sometimes it was Murdock that needed time out. The man used way too much energy talking when he should be worrying about breathing. BA wouldn't say anything even if he was having a heart attack, just keep going, but Hannibal had learned how to read the signs. Like when he quit paying any attention whatever to Murdock, not even a scowl in his direction. And then there was Face. He would grumble and moan and carry on like he was dying until one of the others faltered, and then he'd be right there with a helping hand. Or, like now, he'd decide he had something to prove and only a direct order would stop him.  
  
He watched as Face leaned back against his pack, flushed with exertion. Hannibal knew they shouldn't have harassed him like they had. Face always thought there was more than a bit of seriousness behind it. But hell, after all these years he should know better.  
  
*****  
  
This was just stupid. Feeling like this when he was almost thirty years old. Well, okay, closer to twenty-five than thirty, but still...He glanced over at Hannibal. He was watching him. Great. Hannibal probably called this break because of him. Okay, so he wasn't at his peak. He hadn't been running like usual the last few weeks, hadn't been getting the sleep he should have. Sherrie had been occupying him a little more than he'd expected. If he'd known sooner they were going to be scrambling through the freaking Canadian mountains, he'd have been in better shape for it. Didn't matter anyway. No one was going to be able to say Templeton Peck had held them back.  
  
He looked over at Murdock and BA. Murdock was looking a little rough himself. Of course, he spent most of his time wandering around the VA, without the opportunities for exercise the rest of them had. Not to mention it wasn't that long ago he'd been a complete basket case. But he was keeping up. Face felt a little twinge of guilt. Sure, he was pushing himself, but that meant the rest of them were being pushed, too. He sighed. Okay. Time to grow up and quit trying to prove something...stupid...to people who probably didn't need proof anyway.  
  
God, he really was tired...  
  
*****

Hannibal stretched one last time. "Okay, gang, let's hit the road. A couple more hours and we can stop for the night. Murdock, how 'bout you take point for a while?"  
  
Murdock looked up, surprised. Hannibal was a bit surprised at himself. But then, why not? Sure, Murdock had crashed the plane, and he had his little 'problems', but that didn't mean he was really incompetent, or less than a good soldier. Time to remind him of that. Time to remind himself of that.  
  
He smiled as Murdock snapped an elaborate salute, slightly nudging the Mountie hat still perched on his head.  
  
"Semper fidelis!" Murdock grabbed his pack and slung it up over his shoulders as he headed out. Face and BA grabbed their packs and started after him.  
  
"Oh, no, BA - you follow me this time!" Face grinned as BA growled at him but fell in behind.  
  
Hannibal hesitated just for a moment. Something about that grin hadn't seemed quite right. But what the hell, as long as Face wasn't all riled up any more. Hannibal had started having doubts about this job. It was pretty ambitious, compared to the small time street hoods they'd dealt with so far. This was more of a throwback to Nam. And the team hadn't really been keeping in shape the way they should either. Had gotten complacent. Too used to easy city life. The tempers and sniping that had gone on today were probably just the wear and tear showing itself. A couple more days and they'd be used to the physical demands again. Used to spending all their time together again. And then they'd be ready to take on the bad guys. Which is really what they needed.  
  
Hoisting his pack, Hannibal started out after his men. Things would work out just fine. As soon as they found the bad guys.  
  
*****  
  
The campfire was down to a glow, the tents were up, and the food hung high between two trees, away from the campsite itself, the last due to advice from their Mountie in residence. BA was checking the gear for the last time that night, making sure everything was ready for the next day. Murdock was patrolling the perimeter. Face had already crawled into his tent.  
  
They'd found the place they were looking for with little problem. A scattered collection of gnawed bones and some scraps of fur were all that were left of the bear the poachers had taken a week ago. The team had taken one look at the remains and then made camp several yards away, upwind. Not that there was anything left to stink; it was just the idea. If anything had hardened their resolve, the sight of those bones had done it. Murdock had taken it the hardest, of course. He'd been murmuring to himself about the "Mesdames Flora and Fauna" ever since.  
  
By the light of the camp lantern, Hannibal was pouring over the map Benford had given him before they'd headed for the lake. On the map were all the locations their client had found, where the poachers had either camped or slaughtered. There was a pattern there. Somewhere. The slaughter points - Hannibal just couldn't think of them in any other terms - were obviously around areas where the bears would feed, or had water sources. The camps, on the other hand, seemed to be scattered almost randomly. And yet they weren't. There was something...  
  
Some place. Some place the camps steered clear of. The camps were scattered around all the feeding areas and water sources except for one area. A lake, somewhat smaller than the one the team had landed on.  
  
Hannibal sat back, thinking. The poachers were obviously using that lake to get their spoils out. That's why they kept their camps away from it. And that's why the team would be making a beeline for it. It would mean they would have to wait for the poachers, and chance more bears being killed, but it also meant they wouldn't be wandering around the wilderness hoping to find some fresh sign of them.  
  
Hannibal looked at the map again and sighed. About twenty-five more miles. At least they wouldn't have to backtrack, but it meant another two days hard hiking. Well, nothing he could do about that. He looked back to where the bones rested. He thought about the bears he'd seen on television or at the zoos. About the bear he'd 'co-starred' with in one movie. Turning back to the map, he studied the area around the lake more closely. And started planning.


	4. Chapter 4

When Hannibal stepped out of the tent, Face was already up and looking intently at the map. Hannibal grabbed a cup and poured himself some coffee before settling down beside him. He waited patiently, wanting Face to give him his own assessment of the situation.  
  
"You thinking that lake, Hannibal?"  
  
"Possibly." Hannibal intended to stay neutral. "What's your idea?"  
  
"I think the lake. Possibly this area over here," he pointed to another area, further south. "It's quite a ways from the known camps, but the terrain's flatter, easier access to this road over here." Face pulled out the topographical map they'd used the day before, and pointed to the same area. "But I don't think they'd want to mess with a truck going cross-country. Too many things can go wrong, and I don't think they'd want to chance losing their cargo. Planes seem to be the normal way of traveling around here. And their camps and hunting areas seem to steer clear of that particular lake. Gotta be a reason."  
  
"I agree, Face. I figure a couple days' hike, get an idea of what the land around there is like, set a trap of our own."  
  
"Okay, talk to Murdock, though. He can tell us where their plane would most likely come in through the mountains, just from the topo map. Might save us a little time and energy if we go to the most likely loading area to start with."  
  
"Good idea. Okay, let's get breakfast and get ready to move. The sooner we get over there and set up, the faster we can put these slimeballs away."  
  
"Right, Colonel."  
  
*****  
  
Spiro was the first one up in the camp. He moved from tent to tent, kicking feet. He wasn't a morning person, but they had a lot to do today. Their bush pilot was due at the lake at noon, and the jerk wasn't above taking off if they weren't there ready for him. Then he wouldn't be back for another week. Spiro had already lost one load that way. He'd damn near shot the guy when he came back the next week; only knowing how much trouble it would be to find a new pilot kept him from it.  
  
George came crawling out of his tent and started breakfast. Zach saw to the two packhorses, and Pete started taking down the tents and packing up. Roger went with Spiro to dig up yesterday's carnage. They would have four more stops to make on the way, digging up the packed animal remains they had buried to keep them cool. Once the plane arrived, everything would be packed quickly in the ice-filled coolers the pilot carried. The cargo would arrive at their distributor's in nearly fresh condition. It was a source of pride to Spiro that his customers were always satisfied.  
  
The men said little to each other. They each had their jobs to do and that seemed to be the only thing they thought about. Spiro liked it that way. His people were well trained. He'd made sure of that when he'd handpicked them back in Nam. After their discharges he'd searched them out. Most of them hadn't been able to cope with the real world and were glad to be back in Spiro's fold. He liked that kind of loyalty - he knew they had no place else to go. That and their greed gave him the kind of team he needed to succeed. The Mounties didn't stand a chance.  
  
They arrived at the lake and started unpacking the horses. Within a few minutes they could hear the drone of the plane. An hour later, their new provisions were unloaded, the cargo stashed carefully, and the plane was taxiing across the lake. Spiro smiled. Smooth. Just the way he liked it.  
  
"Okay guys, let's head out. I want as much distance as possible between us and the lake before dark."  
  
"Where to, Rick?"  
  
"Northwest section, I think. Haven't been there for about a week. Should be some prime product waiting by now."  
  
*****  
  
Face had been restless. They'd moved into an area of dense woods, the canopy so thick they hadn't even seen the sky most of the day. And Face didn't like that. Reminded him of places he'd just barely put away. Being around the guys, in their camouflage fatigues, wasn't helping. He just wanted some time to himself. Just for a little while. So, with BA and Murdock setting up camp, he told Hannibal he was going to scout ahead a little. He really hadn't needed the Colonel's reminder that it was getting dark and he should watch where he stepped.  
  
He'd walked further than he had intended. But there was a reason. Shortly after leaving the camp, he'd come across hoof prints, horses', heading in the general direction of the lake that was the team's destination. They looked old, probably from the same time frame as those bones. Well, it was confirmation of sorts. He'd kept following them, hoping to get a firmer idea of the direction they were going. So intent was he in finding the now-faint trail, he didn't realize the dim sunlight was swiftly disappearing.  
  
Damn. That's all he needed, to get stuck out here in the dark. Sure, he carried a flashlight but he wasn't sure he'd be able to see those hoof prints well enough to backtrack. He was about to turn around when he saw it. And he definitely didn't like it.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was reviewing the maps with Murdock, looking at the hills surrounding the lake, trying to determine which direction they should be heading the next day. Murdock was explaining all kinds of things about updrafts and mountain waves and finally Hannibal had had enough.  
  
"Murdock, just tell me what part of the lake the plane would most likely go to, okay?"  
  
"Oh! That's easy - right down here. See, then he's got this little notch between the hills to get out of."  
  
Hannibal sighed in relief. "Thanks, Murdock. I really appreciate your help."  
  
Murdock grinned, snapped another salute and wandered off to find BA, proclaiming to the world at large, "Mounties are trustworthy, loyal, helpful..."  
  
Hannibal sat and studied the maps for a little while longer, until the sun started setting. It was then he realized he hadn't seen Face for a while.  
  
He knew Face was uncomfortable with the deep woods. It wasn't just that he was city-born and bred. Hannibal had noticed a bit of edginess in all of them, including himself, as they'd hiked deeper and deeper into the forest. It was hard to see ahead of them, the sky all but vanished, there were noises in the brush around them as they disturbed various wildlife...too many reminders of another time, another place, combined with not knowing exactly what the hell was out there now. Murdock had gotten a little more 'abstract' as they'd hiked, his discourses moving from the Mounties to explanations of the various plant life and then on to the origin of the species. But none of it had taken on a manic flavor, so Hannibal hadn't worried that much. BA was watching the treetops a little too often, and checking behind them more than he had been in the beginning. And Hannibal had realized, after they made camp, that though he'd chewed on them, he hadn't lit a single cigar at their breaks. No, Face wasn't the only one this place had spooked.  
  
Face deciding all of sudden to 'check things out' had bothered Hannibal, just a little. He had half an idea that Face was just trying to reassure himself, that the kid was letting it get to him. Of course, he couldn't tell Face he had to stay in camp. He'd never issued arbitrary orders, always had a reason. And he wasn't going to tell Face he had to stay just because they all had the willies. So he'd just 'reminded' him that it would be dark soon and to watch his step. Dumb. Face, of course, had immediately gotten his back up at being treated like a kid.  
  
Now it was different. He should have been back already. God only knew what he might have run into out there. Hannibal stood, checked his flashlight. He wasn't sure he should use it, not knowing where the hell the poachers were. They could be ten feet away or ten miles. Not that he had much choice, if he was going to find Face.  
  
He stepped casually over to BA and Murdock, said he was going to check the perimeter. No sense getting everybody, especially Murdock, all uptight. He'd take a quick look around. If he didn't find Face stumbling back to camp, then they'd have to mount a real search.  
  
He headed out into the woods, flashlight flicking from side to side, back to the front. He found himself checking the trees overhead as well. Damn kid.


	5. Chapter 5

Face crouched down, torn between moving ahead, checking it out, and going back to the camp, letting Hannibal know what he'd seen. What he thought he'd seen. He tried to think. How far had he actually traveled? He couldn't remember what time he'd left camp, but it had to have been at least an hour, maybe more. Hannibal would be having a fit. Shit, maybe they were all out looking for him. Regretfully, he turned back, trying to make his eyes adjust to the near pitch-blackness, failing miserably. He didn't want to use his flashlight until he absolutely had to, but it was suicide to try and move through this mess without it. Glancing back, he carefully pulled his jacket off, shoving the flashlight into one sleeve. Keeping it just inside the cuff, he turned it on. Okay. He could make out the ground in front of him, but the glow from the bulb was shielded. Stooped low, he slowly made his way back.  
  
A twig snapped off to his right and he jumped like he'd been shot. Shaken, he pulled his pistol and waited, not daring to shine his light toward the noise. He heard more movement from that direction, a muffled puffing noise, and whatever it was moved slowly away. He stayed put for another few minutes, willing his heart to slow, his breathing to even out. He was disgusted with himself for letting this damn place get to him like that. Fucking Green Beret, scared of his own shadow. Finally he forced himself to move out. Enough of this shit. Get back to camp. Back to the campfire, the light. The guys. Safety.  
  
Shit. He should've stayed in LA.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had been moving through the dense growth for almost fifteen minutes. He knew he should go back; the guys would certainly have noticed his extended absence. That's all he needed, for the other two to start wandering around this place. Damn it, Face. Hannibal had thought he'd broken him of this sort of thing long ago. Just like a damn bloodhound. Get the scent of something off-kilter and away he'd go, forgetting everything except finding whatever it was that caught his attention. Damn near got the kid killed, more than once. Face had become an expert on cleaning latrines before he'd finally learned. But now he'd done it again.  
  
What worried Hannibal most was that he didn't know why Face hadn't come back. Had he actually found something and was following up on it? Or had he run into trouble? Was he hurt or lost or just trailing something? He knew Face hadn't intended to be gone long, or to go too far, because he'd left his radio behind. That would be the last time that happened. They'd all keep their radios on them from now on; he didn't care if they just stepped off the trail to take a leak. And Face was going to hit the obstacle course heavy duty when they got back to LA.  
  
He was just about to turn around when he caught a flash of light, just ahead. He stopped, watching. The light stayed on a pretty straight route, heading almost directly toward him.  
  
"Hannibal?"  
  
Hannibal didn't know whether to yell at him or hug him. Instead, he spoke in a hushed voice. "Goddamn it, Face, where the hell were you?"  
  
"Later, Hannibal. I just...let's get back to camp, okay?"  
  
Hannibal recognized the tone in that voice. They needed to get back. Face was damn close to losing it.  
  
"Okay, kid. Follow me."  
  
They stumbled back into the camp a few minutes later to find BA and Murdock in a heated argument. The absence had indeed been noted, and the two were disagreeing sharply on whether or not they should go out looking for the missing men. When they saw Hannibal and Face, the reaction was almost comical. Murdock fell all over himself making sure his teammates were okay, pushing them toward the fire, practically dumping hot coffee on them while handing them their cups, babbling questions right and left. BA just stood there, glaring at them, arms crossed angrily across his chest. Hannibal almost flinched when he caught BA's eye.  
  
Murdock finally started calming down and sat tensely near the fire. Hannibal looked at BA, who, with a disgusted shake of his head, also sat.  
  
"Well, Lieutenant? Care to explain yourself?"  
  
Face, also seeming calmer now, although he looked a little pale in the firelight, took a deep breath.  
  
"I was just going to check around the camp, honest to God, Colonel. Then I saw some tracks - horses - heading toward the lake. I was only going to follow them long enough to see if they turned off, went another direction, and I...I lost track of the time. But then, maybe two miles from here, I saw a light up ahead of me. I think it was another campfire, Hannibal."  
  
"You think or you know?"  
  
"I know. It was a campfire. I think the poachers are no more than two, two and half miles from us."  
  
*****  
  
Face and Hannibal stared at the map. Face was desperately trying to figure out precisely where he had gone, where the other encampment was.  
  
"Okay, I walked for...yeah, up this little rise...okay. Okay. I've got it. I was right about here, the campfire maybe here...possibly a little further, but not much. Close enough to catch it through the trees."  
  
"You're sure?"  
  
"As sure as I can be, Hannibal. Close enough that we'll be able to see it before we walk into it."  
  
"Okay. BA, armaments?"  
  
"Ready to go, Colonel."  
  
"Murdock, got the goggles?"  
  
The pilot held up four pair of expensive night vision goggles, one of the benefits of Face having girlfriends in the right places.  
  
"Okay, remember two things. One, these guys are used to living out here, they're used to hearing things in their sleep. So keep it quiet. Two, if any of you has to take off after one of them, follow their path exactly. They'll either steer you clear of any hazards or take them for you. Okay. Face, you lead the way. BA, you take the rear. Murdock, ahead of BA. Stick together. Face is with me. When we get up close, you two go left, we'll go right. Then wait for my order. Got it?"  
  
His men nodded. They'd been through this many times before. They were ready. BA doused the fire as the others adjusted their weapons.  
  
Hannibal nodded to Face, who led the way out of camp and into the woods. The goggles went on almost immediately. They were better suited for use with moonlight rather than total darkness, but at least they could see where they were going without falling over everything.  
  
Hannibal never had gotten used to wearing these things. Sometimes he thought he was getting too old for military technology. He concentrated on watching Face's feet.  
  
They seemed to be moving much faster than they should; Hannibal quit finding familiar landmarks within a few minutes. Now it was all new territory to him. He had to rely on the man ahead of him knowing where the hell they were going. Face stopped once, pointing to the ground, and Hannibal saw the old tracks that had first attracted the lieutenant's attention. Then they were on the move yet again.  
  
Just over an hour later, Face came to an abrupt stop, whipping off the goggles. Hannibal was momentarily blinded by the distant light of the campfire blazing through the goggles before he, too, pulled them off. He got a fix on the campfire, then tapped Face on the shoulder. The goggles went back on, and they moved forward again.  
  
Forty-five minutes later they were in position.


	6. Chapter 6

A burst of gunfire was followed by a commanding voice.  
  
"All right, slimeballs, front and center, on the double!"  
  
Within moments, four disheveled and wide-eyed men were standing in the center of the camp, hands raised high. Hannibal sighed. This was so easy it wasn't even fun. And then he took another look at the men. There was something familiar there.  
  
"BA! Take a look at these guys. You know any of them?"  
  
BA was surprised, but looked closer. Face and Murdock shared confused glances.  
  
"What the...Hannibal, that's George Kollman...McCaleb...Deeds...and hell, Roger Innes. What the..."  
  
"You got a great memory, Sergeant!"  
  
The compliment came from the side, above them. Murdock and Face immediately aimed their weapons toward the treetops, searching desperately for the source.  
  
"Tell your men to drop 'em, Colonel, or you'll be breathing out of your chest."  
  
Hannibal knew that voice. He'd had a sinking feeling when BA started rattling off the names. That voice confirmed his misgivings.  
  
"Long time, no see, Richie. Why am I not surprised that you'd stoop to something like this?"  
  
"Sticks and stones, Colonel Smith. Now tell your men to drop their weapons. Last warning."  
  
Face was already lowering his weapon. He looked at Hannibal, his expression clearly saying, it's not worth it. Hannibal nodded.  
  
"Drop 'em, guys."  
  
It took only minutes and Hannibal, Face, Murdock and BA were tightly tied to four separate trees surrounding the camp. Only then did Spiro show himself.  
  
He stepped up to Hannibal, a grin spreading over his face. "Well, well. Never thought I'd run into you up here, Colonel. Things get too hot for you back in the States?"  
  
Hannibal grinned right back. "Just on vacation, Richie. Thought we'd do a little vermin hunting while we were up here. Wish I'd known exactly what vermin we were after, though. I'd have brought rat poison."  
  
Spiro's grin slackened somewhat, but he maintained it. "Always had a flair for words, Colonel. I liked that about you. Yeah, really too bad we had a falling out. You and I could have had a real future, if you just hadn't been so damn righteous."  
  
"Sorry, Richie. I just can't help being disgusted by slime."  
  
That earned Hannibal a swift and hard smack across the face. He'd expected it and immediately looked back at Spiro with a grin.  
  
"You really need to work on that temper of yours, Richie. That always got you into trouble."  
  
"You're the one in trouble now, Colonel. I'd remember that."  
  
"Uh, Rick? What we gonna do with these guys?" Roger was looking just a bit worried. Spiro realized he was in shaky territory here. They'd done a lot of things since getting back together, but they hadn't killed anyone. Yet.  
  
"Do with them? Nothing, Roger. Sun up comes, we'll pack our shit and move on, just like planned."  
  
"Just leave them here? Tied up?"  
  
Spiro looked directly at Hannibal. "All tied up. Nice and tight. Like a Christmas present." Suddenly grinning, he turned away and walked across the camp toward his tent. "Hit the sack, guys. Roger, you take next watch. We leave at sunup." He looked back one more time at Hannibal. "Oh, and Colonel, let's keep things quiet tonight. I'd hate to shoot my old commander."  
  
Spiro's men checked their prisoners one last time before going back into their tents. Roger settled himself in a spot where he could see all four men.  
  
Hannibal looked around at his men and shrugged his shoulders. It was going to be a long night.  
  
*****  
  
The morning sun filtered through the trees, highlighting the webs of mist that would slowly dissipate before the light disappeared in the thick branches. Hannibal opened his eyes; he'd managed several short periods of sleep, but his body was numb, cold, and his clothes damp. He looked over at this men and saw they, too, were uncomfortably greeting the morning. He thought about Richie's words of last night and wondered if he really intended to leave them alive. Probably. Four warm bodies tied to trees would certainly prove an enticement for the local carnivores. He didn't like to think about that.  
  
There was movement from the tents as the poachers also woke to the new day. Hannibal watched them carefully. He vaguely remembered them, and was reluctantly impressed with the precision and seriousness with which they prepared for the day. Richie ran a tight ship; but then, he always had. Hannibal had never had a problem with him as far as his command over the men; it was the way he executed their orders. Richie had never given a damn about anything except completing the mission successfully. If that meant a lot of civilian casualties, or destruction of friendly villages, so be it.And he had no problem disregarding Hannibal's decisions if his way was 'more efficient'.  
  
Richie's men, finished with their preparations, sat down, pointedly ignoring their captives, and ate breakfast. They talked softly among themselves, or at least listened as Spiro talked to them. Glancing again at his own men, Hannibal felt a bit of pride that they were, in turn, ignoring the poachers - and the smell of breakfast. He grinned to himself. His men would not forget this the next time they came across Spiro and his gang.  
  
Finally, the moment came when the packhorses were loaded, the camp cleared away, and the poachers stood waiting as Spiro stepped over to Hannibal.  
  
"I wish I could say it was nice seeing you again, Colonel, but unfortunately, it was more of an inconvenience."  
  
"Well, next time I'll call first, Richie."  
  
"I don't think I'll hold my breath for the call, Colonel. No offense, but I really do have more important things to do this morning than trade smartass barbs. Au revoir, Colonel."  
  
"Aloha, Richie." Hannibal smiled happily at him until the men were out of sight. He looked over to BA, waiting.  
  
BA scowled, raising his eyes to the sky. He took a couple deep breaths, and started expanding his muscles. It hurt like hell, the muscles tight and stiff from the night's inactivity, but he kept expanding and relaxing his arms until he could feel the ropes starting to stretch. He gave Hannibal a grin, and kept working the ropes. After nearly fifteen minutes, he was finally able to pull one arm loose. He pulled the rest of the ropes off, staggering for a moment as the numbness left his body.  
  
"You okay, BA?"  
  
"Yeah, Hannibal, but I catch up with those guys..."  
  
It took only minutes to release the rest of the prisoners. They carefully stretched, feeling every protest from their stiff and sore bodies.  
  
"Now what, Colonel?" Face's voice held just a bit more than a hint of reproach to it. "I take it you know these guys pretty well?"  
  
"I know them very well, Lieutenant." He looked quickly around, getting his bearings. Things looked a lot different in the daylight. "We need to get back to camp, and hope Richie doesn't find it first. Once we get there, I'll fill you in on our friends. All right, move out."  
  
Hannibal's tone of voice left no room for more discussion. As best they could, they double-timed it back toward their camp, hoping it would still be there when they arrived.


	7. Chapter 7

They had not seen any signs that the poachers had gone near their camp, but Hannibal insisted they approach with extreme caution. After making sure it was safe, he then insisted on cold rations for breakfast, not wanting the smell of a campfire or food wafting through the forest. Immediately after breakfast, the men made a fast change of clothes and packed up. They were tired, sore, tense and angry. The fact that they needed to backtrack and pick up the trail of the poachers did nothing to alleviate the situation.  
  
Hannibal had given an abbreviated history of the connection between himself and his former lieutenant, with BA adding a few terse comments about the other men. Now they all knew what they were facing - men who were as well trained as themselves, who had the distinct advantage of having been living in this wilderness for some time, and who were willing to leave four people helpless to the elements.  
  
Hannibal had taken point on the way back. He knew how angry Face was, and wanted to keep the pace reasonable. His men were already worn down and he didn't want to aggravate it. He intended to get close enough to keep an eye on the poachers, but no closer. He would not engage them again until the team had at least one night of rest.  
  
After a lunch of more cold rations, the team was again on the march. They picked up the trail easily; it was hard to miss the horses. BA had taken point mid-morning, then Hannibal put Murdock up front again. He knew Face was getting more and more upset with what he considered the slow pace, but that couldn't be helped. He shook his head. Face could hold onto his anger longer than any two men, and then, in the blink of an eye, forget all about it. Sometimes Hannibal thought Face kept the anger only as long as he needed the energy. Or, in this case, the diversion. Anything was better than thinking about their surroundings. He wished he had a diversion like that. Something to keep his mind off the trees, the smells, the sounds. Something to keep his mind on the job and the job alone. But he couldn't. Not in this place, not with those men.  
  
It wasn't that he couldn't put aside the memories. He was perfectly capable of doing that. When he did think about it, it was in a detached, clinical way. Much the same way he'd studied ancient military history. That's all it was. Mainly. Even after they'd started this soldier-for-hire scheme, the similarities between their new life and the old hadn't bothered him. Instead he'd had...fun. But they'd been in LA, sometimes the outlying areas, mainly hit and run jobs. Over in a day or two. Then back to a normal life. Or at least, as normal as they could get. But this job...  
  
It wasn't even memories that were surfacing, causing problems. Even with Richie, it was the man that bothered him, not the memories. No, it was the feeling. Being here, being on patrol, camping out, tracking these guys, even the clothing. It brought back the feelings from Nam. The feelings of not being safe. Which was stupid. But the more he thought about it, the more he realized that in LA, they'd felt safe. There were rules there, even if they didn't always apply to the team or the guys they went after. But the rules applied to everything and everyone else, even the MP's. Everything was 'known'. They didn't have to worry about anything except the job.  
  
Here, like in Nam, it was all different. There was wildlife to worry about. The elements to worry about. Hell, a sprained ankle could mean disaster. Not knowing what was around the bend, over the hill. Not knowing the rules. Because there weren't any. Not any 'civilized' ones. Here, if you didn't think about what you were doing all the time, you could end up dead from stupidity. That was the difference. That constantly being on guard. Never being able to really relax.  
  
He shook himself. Introspection was not his strong point. He didn't like it. Take care of today, of now, let the future take care of itself, let the past lie. He'd learned to live that way a long time ago, and he saw no reason to change now. He brought himself back to the present, as Murdock came to a halt up ahead and signaled to him. About time.  
  
Grinning, he moved forward.  
  
*****  
  
Spiro moved at a fast pace after leaving Smith and his men. He wanted to get his own men away from the area and back into the routine, back on the job, before they had time to think about what would be happening back there. He wanted them busy, so by the time they could think about it, it would be too late, and they would be just as guilty as he. He'd have no problem with them then.  
  
They stopped only long enough for a short, cold lunch, and then moved on through the afternoon. It was late in the day when Spiro finally called a halt and they started setting up camp. The men were tired, which was good. They would all call it a day early, sleep hard, and by morning would have come to terms with what had happened. That chapter would be over and done with, and they could get back to their normal routine.  
  
They sat up for some time after dark, going over the plans for the next day. They already knew the places they would set the bait, and each man had his own preference. Spiro just liked to make sure. He sent Roger up the tree for first watch. He'd started using that position early on, when they'd almost had a cat come into one of the tents while George had been on the opposite side of the perimeter. That's how he'd known Smith was coming. You could see all around the camp from up there, and much sooner, too. Roger wasn't given to thinking about things, either; he just did what he was told. As long as he got paid, he didn't really worry about what they were doing. He would concentrate on his watch, not on Smith.  
  
Spiro smiled, satisfied with his plans. Tomorrow would be a new day.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal stood just to the side of the tree, watching the moving figures ahead. He could just make them out, but it was obvious they were making camp. He was relieved about that. His own men were nearing the end of their rope. Unfortunately, it would be another cold camp tonight. They were too close for a fire, but no way they were backtracking. Turning back, he issued low orders and BA and Murdock quickly made up their own camp.  
  
Hannibal and Face moved forward to do a recon of the area. About halfway between the two camps, they split up, Hannibal moving to the left, Face to the right. They met back at camp less than an hour later, and began making their plans. As darkness fell, BA took his position for first watch, while the others crawled wearily into their tents and let exhaustion take them.  
  
Hannibal had taken last watch, taking the time to go over the details of the raid. They would move out as soon as it was light enough to see, and be in position as the sun broke over the hills. He thought about Face's reaction to the plan. It wasn't unexpected. He'd come up to Hannibal afterward, wanting to know why he was in the 'safe' position. Hannibal had given him a bunch of bullshit about being his 'trump card', but he knew the lieutenant hadn't been totally satisfied. Hannibal himself wasn't sure why he hadn't given that job to Murdock. He usually wanted Face in a key position. It was just that Face had not been acting like himself. The whole time they'd been up here, he'd been tense and irritable. For some reason, Hannibal didn't want him on the attack in the morning. Instead he'd be lying in wait, at the opening Hannibal was deliberately giving the poachers. It was his way of getting back at Richie. Unfortunately, he knew Face hadn't quite seen it that way. More of the those insecurities coming out.  
  
Well, the kid would get over it. He looked up at the sky, realizing it was almost time to move. He started waking the team.  
  
*****  
  
Face moved quickly and quietly toward the stream. It was down in a gully, surrounded by steep banks. Once in the gully, he ran carefully along the water's edge, slipping a bit in the soft ground. He slowed when he figured he was parallel with the poacher's camp, listening for any movement toward the stream, looking for a place to position himself for the assault. Or rather, the non-assault on his part. He frowned, thinking of that pathetic explanation Hannibal had given him last night. When the colonel had lost confidence in him, he didn't know, but he'd damn well show him he could do his job as well as the rest of them.  
  
There, just up ahead. A cleft in the bank, providing a perfect three-sided foxhole. He could slide up into that and have perfect cover for firing on the camp. He looked at the surrounding bank critically. Maybe an eight-foot climb, but it looked fairly solid. He took one last look up and down the gully.  
  
He saw the chain first. Big. Rusty. His eyes followed the chain and widened in shock when he saw the bear trap. Huge. From end to end, longer than a shotgun. Two heavy metal jaws yawning open, with crocodile-sized teeth on the underside. He looked about for a stick or branch to trigger it, then thought better of it. The noise from something that monstrous slamming shut would have the poachers on his ass in seconds. Shit. Well, no reason to go anywhere near it now. Once they had these guys in tow, he'd come back and set it off. No way he would leave that for an animal to step in.  
  
He turned his attention back to the task at hand. Hannibal and BA should be just about in position now. Slinging the rifle strap over his shoulder, he began the short climb up the bank and into the cleft. His feet slid a couple times on the mud, but he managed to get into position without a lot of hassle. Cautiously he peeked over the edge of the bank. He grinned. He was almost perfectly centered on the camp, able to see everything going on.  
  
He settled back down, finding a good foothold on a large rock, and waited for Hannibal's signal.  
  
*****  
  
"Ready?" Hannibal spoke low to Murdock, still watching the camp ahead of them. The men in it were just getting up, starting to move around. Hannibal had to get moving.  
  
Murdock nodded, his Mountie hat hanging by its straps behind his head. Hannibal took a close look at him. Okay, he was ready for this. He hadn't cracked one odd remark since the morning ritual of irritating BA.  
  
Murdock scowled and took the safety off. "This one's for Yogi."  
  
Hannibal sighed and moved up with BA. They had to circle the camp, BA taking the 9:00 position, Hannibal noon. They quickly but quietly moved through the woods, circling wide.  
  
Luck was running with them almost from the start. As they approached BA's position, they saw Zach tending to the horses. Hannibal glanced at BA, who winked back. As Hannibal moved on toward his own position, BA moved silently up behind the poacher. Hannibal continued on his way, always in awe at how stealthy a man like BA could be. One down, four to go. Piece of cake.  
  
It took only a few more minutes before he was in position behind a large tree. He checked his watch. Face should be settled by now. He took another look at the camp. The four remaining men were now seated around the campfire, eating breakfast, not a care in the world. Hannibal grinned in anticipation of the shock Richie was in for. Still he waited. Not until he noticed Richie glancing over toward the horses did he make his move.  
  
"Hey, Richie! This is the ghost of yesterday past! Drop 'em!"  
  
*****  
  
Face heard Hannibal's shouting, listened as the first volleys began. He rose up into position, aiming his automatic toward the camp. He still didn't like it, but orders were orders. Don't fire until they came right at him. He was Hannibal's coup de grace. His reply to Richie's tree act. The poachers would think they had an escape route via the stream, and then Face would open up, stopping them in their tracks. So he waited for them to come, keeping out of sight but ready.  
  
It took only a couple of minutes, and the men started running for his position. He waited, letting them get closer, his own angry humor letting them gain confidence before he started firing, his body almost vibrating, in sync with the rifle as it fired round after round. It was almost comical, watching them come to a skidding halt as the bullets ravaged the ground around them. Face grinned. It was over in seconds. The poachers threw down their weapons, and slowly turned back to the camp. He saw Hannibal, Murdock and BA walking calmly into the camp, rifles trained on the defeated men.  
  
Still grinning, he again slung his rifle over his shoulder, and, grabbing the edge of the bank to pull himself up, pushed off on the rock. He wasn't expecting the rock, loosened by his activities, to break away from the earth. He suddenly found himself sliding down the bank toward the stream. He immediately started quick stepping backwards, trying to gain some control over his fall.  
  
He landed upright at the bottom, momentum pushing him back further toward the stream. As his right foot came down, he heard a click and the iron jaws seized his leg. An icy fire raced through his body, his vision blurred with a red-orange glow before going black. He hit the ground, out cold, before he even had time to cry out.


	8. Chapter 8

"So now what, Colonel? You gonna leave us here, teach us a lesson?" Richie glared at his former commander, who stood grinning, cigar between his teeth, weapon pointed, as BA and Murdock securely tied their captives' wrists and ankles.  
  
"Well, Richie, I think the first order of business is a nice, hot breakfast for my men. And then, we're gonna march you slimeballs outta here and into the waiting arms of the Mounties. How's that sound?"  
  
"Sounds like you've got a long trip ahead of you, Colonel. A very long trip."  
  
"Why don't you let me worry about that, Richie? You've got enough to think about." Hannibal, still grinning, headed over to check out the supplies and equipment in the camp.  
  
Murdock, finished tying up the prisoners, looked over toward the streambed, expecting to see Face coming into the camp. He hadn't really noticed the absence before, thinking his teammate was finding a place to climb out of the gully. It shouldn't have taken him this long, though. After another look to make sure Spiro's men were securely under BA's glare, he started walking over to Face's position, straightening his hat. A Mountie had to look proper, no matter what the circumstances, after all.  
  
As he got close to the edge of the gully, he saw where the ground had given way. Murdock stopped, grinning. It was obvious Face had slid down the bank and was probably down there fuming, too stubborn or embarrassed to call for help. The pilot shook his head. Face always thought he should be able to do everything perfectly, and just got into more trouble trying. One day he'd learn it was okay to be human. In the meantime, the team just kept pulling him out of gullies and giving him shit about it.  
  
Murdock thought of the fun he would have with this; Hannibal would be sure to razz him about it. For a few moments, Murdock thought about just letting him find his own way out. It was probably mean, and Face would get angry, but he always got over that. And usually got even, one way or another. Murdock could just see his face when he did eventually climb out. Although, Face had been a little less forgiving this trip. He frowned a little. Maybe he better just help him out of there and save the kidding for later. Yeah, that would probably be best. Murdock was crazy, but he wasn't dumb.  
  
He stepped up to the edge of the ditch, watching his step. Finding a firm place he looked down, expecting to see Face all red-faced and angry.  
  
"HANNIBAL!"  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had just started looking through the camp. These guys were very well supplied, had damn near everything they could want for surviving out here on their own. Despite himself, Hannibal was impressed. Between the two camps, they could last for months.  
  
"Hannibal!"  
  
He jerked around, bringing his weapon up. He saw Murdock over by the bank of the stream, waving his arms wildly. He hurried over, seeing that BA had come to quick attention, watching the captives for any sign of a trick. Moments later Hannibal was beside the pilot.  
  
"What's the problem, Murdock?"  
  
Without replying, Murdock turned and slid down the bank. Hannibal stepped forward, totally confused. Then he, too, looked down and his stomach turned.  
  
Murdock was kneeling by a prostrate Face, who lay pale and unconscious by the stream. It was the leg that shook him. Caught grimly tight in a trap nearly the size of the man himself. Without another thought, Hannibal skidded down the embankment, and rushed to his lieutenant's side.  
  
Murdock had his hand on his friend's shoulder, bent down close to his head, mumbling fast and low. Hannibal checked Face's pulse, found it fast and weak. He glanced again at the leg.  
  
"Murdock! We're going to need BA down here. Send the medical kit with him. You stay with the prisoners, and keep your mind on them!"  
  
Murdock looked up, glaring at the last command. But command it was. Hannibal's voice was pure steel. The pilot gave Face's shoulder one last gentle pat, then stood and practically flew up the embankment. Barely remembering to pick up his dropped weapon, he ran back through the camp and into the woods where the team had left their own packs. He grabbed the first aid kit, glad for once that it was so cumbersome. They should have everything they needed in there.  
  
He ran back into camp, thrusting the kit into BA's astonished hands.  
  
"Take it down to the stream. Face got caught in a trap. It's bad."  
  
BA didn't wait for further explanation. He handed Murdock his weapon and hurried away. Murdock watched him for a moment, until Spiro spoke up.  
  
"Bear trap, right? Too bad, man. Might as well shoot the poor bastard now and put him out of his misery." He grinned up at his guard.  
  
Amazingly, Murdock grinned right back and knelt down by the man's face, the barrel of his rifle nuzzling Spiro's ear. His eyes had a maniacal glint to them, which wasn't lost on Spiro.  
  
"You know who I am, muchacho? They call me Howlin' Mad Murdock, 'cause I'm crazy as a loon. And you know what else? There's only one person I'm thinking about shooting, unless he keeps his fucking mouth shut..."  
  
Spiro gulped, and looked away. He wasn't stupid, either.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal checked the leg more closely after Murdock left. It wasn't pretty. The heavy jaws had it just below the knee, and had crushed it to less than half its normal size. The skin was literally split open; the large teeth on the underside were embedded in the muscle. Blood was seeping out, but thankfully was dark red - by some miracle, the arteries were intact. Hannibal knew once they had that god-awful thing off, the blood flow would be a lot worse. It would be something to get ready for before they released the leg.  
  
He looked up as BA came sliding down and stepped to Face's side. Whatever BA thought about the situation, he was not letting it show. Except that instead of a scowl, his face was entirely blank. No emotion whatever.  
  
"Open up the kit, BA. He's gonna bleed like crazy when we get that thing off. Well, when you get that off." He looked over at the sergeant, saw him looking at the trap. "You can get it off, can't you?"  
  
BA stepped over to it, scrutinizing from a respectful distance. He sighed heavily.  
  
"Yeah, I can, Hannibal. But not layin on its side like that. See, I gotta push down on these end pieces, that'll open the jaws. But it's gotta be upright." He looked at Hannibal, then at Face.  
  
At first, Hannibal didn't understand. Then he realized what BA meant. He couldn't open the trap unless it was sitting up, and it couldn't be sitting up unless Face went up with it. If they tried to move the trap without moving Face, it would just tear at the muscle, pull on the bones...shit. Time was wasting.  
  
"We need Murdock, Hannibal. If you're holdin him up, and I'm openin the trap, someone's gotta pull the leg out and get him clear. And it's gotta be fast, 'cause I don't know how long I can keep it open."  
  
Hannibal looked at Face. He was still out of it, pale and starting to sweat. They would have to secure Richie and his bunch before they could bring Murdock. More delays.  
  
"Okay. You stay with Face. Murdock and I will secure the prisoners and get down here. Fire off a round if...things..."  
  
BA nodded, and Hannibal scrambled up the bank.  
  
Murdock was waiting anxiously as he came into camp. "Is he okay? Have you got him out?"  
  
"No. We need to tie these guys to the trees - tight. We need you down there to help." Hannibal grabbed Richie by the shirt. "You give me any trouble with this and I will shoot you. I'm not wasting any more time on you than I have to. Got it?"  
  
Spiro nodded. With Murdock's gun trained on them, Hannibal quickly cut the ropes binding their ankles, and one by one tied them unmercifully tight to the nearest trees. Spiro was last. Hannibal gave him one last glare.  
  
"My man dies, you're gonna get a taste of your own medicine, Richie. And I'll enjoy every minute of it."  
  
With that, he and Murdock rushed for the streambed.


	9. Chapter 9

Hannibal had explained to Murdock what needed to be done, but the pilot stood for a moment, looking at Face, the trap, BA, then Hannibal.  
  
"No, I need to hold him up, Colonel. I'm taller than you. I'll have to bend over a little at first, but when we pull his leg out, I can straighten up and bring him up further than you could. It'll be easier that way, believe me."  
  
"Can you hold him? Even when I pull it out of there?"  
  
"I will."  
  
Hannibal didn't waste any more time discussing it. He figured Face had been in that trap for well over thirty minutes already. Time was running out. He nodded at the others.  
  
"You pull it out and then you gotta get outta the way quick. That thing's gonna move some when I let go." BA frowned, still studying the trap.  
  
"Okay. Murdock?"  
  
The pilot nodded and he and Hannibal gently took Face under the arms. As BA slowly tipped the trap, they gradually adjusted until Murdock had Face's arm draped over his shoulders. They all kept their eyes glued to the trap, making sure the leg didn't get out of line. Slowly they got Face upright, Murdock firmly holding on. Finally, BA was ready to force the trap open. He looked at Hannibal.  
  
Hannibal took a deep breath. He squatted down and with one hand, got a firm grasp on Face's leg just above and behind the knee, and got ready to grab the lower leg as soon as the jaws were far enough apart.  
  
"Move straight back when I get it out, Murdock. Fast, but not too fast." He didn't look up to see Murdock's nod; he took it on faith that Murdock would move as directed, making sure he and Hannibal moved in sync. "Okay, BA."  
  
BA got down on his knees, flexing his arms. He took several deep breaths before placing his hands on the arms on either side of the jaws. He glanced at Hannibal, then Murdock. They both nodded, ready. Taking one more deep breath, BA started pushing down on the rusty metal.  
  
At first, there was no movement at all. BA took another deep breath and pushed down harder. There was a groan from the metal, and it jerked a fraction of an inch. Encouraged, BA kept pushing. Slowly the side arms moved downward and the jaws started to part.  
  
Hannibal watched in horrified fascination as metal slowly pulled away from flesh and bone. He knew, if he lived to be a hundred, he would never forget that sound. For the first time, he realized what he was about to do - deliberately put his arm into that monster. He took a deep breath and tightened his grip on the upper leg.  
  
BA pushed down further. The jaws seemed to be stuck. Sweat was running down his face. Damn! He was wearing down fast, but he didn't dare let up. If he let those jaws close again, not only would it cause more damage, but he honestly didn't think he'd be able get them open again. And if he couldn't open it enough to get Face's leg out...  
  
Where it came from, BA would never know. But he pushed down with every ounce of strength he had in him. The jaws suddenly swung open, Hannibal reached down and grabbed Face's shin and pulled back. Suddenly Murdock, Hannibal and Face were careening back, their retreat barely controlled. BA waited a split second longer, letting them get clear, before he let go of the trap and threw himself backward, landing on his back in the mud. The monster trap sprang into the air, the jaws ringing as they snapped shut, and it thudded onto the ground, silent. BA was close enough to see bits of flesh still stuck to it. He felt the bile rise in his throat. Quickly, he looked over at the others.  
  
Murdock was sitting on the ground, Face cradled protectively in his arms. Hannibal still had hold of his leg, blood spilling freely over his hands. He looked back at BA, pale and sweating, nodding toward the first aid kit.  
  
BA struggled to his feet. They had a long ways to go yet.  
  
*****  
  
Spiro was working at his bindings with almost desperate effort. He didn't hold out any hopes for Smith's man. He'd seen what those old traps did to animals; he shuddered to think what it would do to a man. He figured they had maybe a half-hour yet and then Smith would be back, ready for blood. Their blood. And he didn't intend to be here if he could help it. The problem was, of course, that they had been tied with near maliciousness. It was hard to loosen ropes tied so tightly the blood was nearly cut off.  
  
He looked over at his men. They were all struggling to get free, but none seemed to be having any more success than he was. Shit. Dead meat. He could see it coming.  
  
Abruptly his men stopped struggling. He looked up and saw the black guy, BA, running back into camp. Without a word or glance, he strode to one of the tents and pulled it down. Bundling it up with the poles, he hurried back toward the streambed. Spiro watched as he tossed it all carefully over the edge and climbed down after it.  
  
He looked after him thoughtfully. They must have gotten the guy out. That meant a reprieve, of sorts. Spiro began to have hope. The longer they kept him alive, the longer Spiro and his men had to find a way to escape. And with Smith one man down - hell, having a badly injured man to take care of - it would make it that much easier.  
  
Spiro allowed himself a small smile. They'd see who got a taste of their own medicine...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had quickly cut the pant leg away. There were two ragged wounds on either side of the leg, almost encircling it. The blood was flowing out, not too fast, but steadily. He started rummaging in the kit.  
  
"BA, bring one of the tents - just rip it down. We'll need it for a splint." BA immediately started up the bank.  
  
Hannibal moved into automatic. It was the only way he could do this, the tedious and meticulous task of cleaning the debris from the wound. Bits of pant leg were stuck here and there, and there were actually flakes of rust caught inside. He refused to think of Face. This was just another wounded soldier in the field. Fighting the bleeding to see, he carefully worked the tweezers; small bits of skin that would die anyway he cut away. By the time BA returned, he was almost finished. He quickly opened a bottle of iodine and poured it over the injuries.  
  
Holding the flesh together, he grabbed gauze pads and placed them over the ravaged areas. As soon as he had them in place, he motioned to Murdock and the two of them started applying direct pressure. As the blood soaked through, BA handed them more gauze to cover it. When that, too, was soaked through, it was replaced. They went through three more changes before the flow finally trickled to a halt.  
  
Murdock sat back, and immediately checked Face's vitals again. So far, so good. The pilot was looking pretty shaken, and Hannibal was glad he could take a break. Not allowing himself to relax, he bound the wound firmly with several bands of the gauze.  
  
He still wasn't done. With Murdock keeping a close watch on Face, he carefully removed the boot and sock, checking the toes for color and temperature. Good. So far, no problem with circulation. So far...  
  
"Okay, BA, we can splint it as is. We'll need two of the tent poles, long enough to go from ankle to just above his knee." BA nodded. He knew how to do this part. He was just thankful they didn't have to realign the bone; he knew who would've had that job and, feeling a bit ashamed, he realized he just didn't want to do it. Not now.  
  
They worked quickly. This part, at least, was a routine they had done many times over in Nam. The only tricky part was arranging the padding, leaving enough room between the splints so they would be able to check the bandaged areas. Carefully they moved the injured man onto his side, Murdock's jacket under his head. A shot of antibiotics, a final check of his vitals, and they were finished.  
  
The three men sat, silent. It had been a long time since they had gone through anything like this. No, they had never gone through anything like this. And certainly not with one of their own. They looked at each other, bloody, sweaty, exhausted, and suddenly Hannibal grinned at the other two. For a moment, BA and Murdock looked stunned. And then they realized - they had done it. Face hadn't lost his leg. He was alive. They had done it. At least for now. And 'now' was all that mattered.


	10. Chapter 10

Murdock was watching Face. He still hadn't awakened, but was stirring.  
  
"Now what, Colonel? How do we get him out of here?"  
  
Hannibal looked up at the steep and slippery bank. He didn't want to even try taking him up that, but he didn't want to haul him all over trying to find a low spot, either.  
  
"I got it, Hannibal." BA had been looking at the bank, also, and the surrounding trees. "You get a litter built, I got the rest." Without another word he got up and climbed up the bank.  
  
Bemused, Hannibal watched him disappear toward the camp. He knew if BA said he could do it, he could.  
  
Hannibal looked at the remains of the tent. They could use that for a stretcher, but it would be bulky and stiff, not a very comfortable ride over the next few days. He looked over at Murdock.  
  
"You stay with him; I'll go see what I can find for a stretcher. You okay with that?"  
  
Murdock was once again checking Face's pulse. "Sure, Colonel. You suppose we oughta give him a painkiller?"  
  
"Not yet. I don't want to give him anything until he comes to."  
  
Hannibal was a little concerned that Face hadn't awakened yet. And he didn't want to say anything more to Murdock about their medical supplies. He knew they'd brought a normally adequate supply of analgesics, but certainly not enough for this. He needed to see what kind of medical supplies Spiro had. He needed to figure out the quickest way out of this place. Needed to figure out how to deal with Spiro and his goons. He looked around him, at the total wilderness that he knew so little about, and, for perhaps the first time in his adult life, felt nearly overwhelmed.  
  
"We'll make it, Colonel. We always do." Murdock spoke softly, but determinedly.  
  
Hannibal looked over at him, hoping his doubts hadn't been that clear. Murdock looked at him with such confidence. He hoped he could live up to that honor. No, he would live up to it. He would get them all out of this alive.  
  
He stood up, headed for the bank. "I'll go find the stuff we'll need, and when BA is ready, we'll get Face the hell out of here."  
  
Murdock watched him go, a smile on his face.  
  
*****  
  
BA had double-checked the ropes on the poachers. He knew they'd been trying to work loose; he also knew how angry Hannibal had been when he tied them up, so he wasn't too concerned. He smiled to himself. Hannibal usually kept his cool, no matter what, but you sure didn't want to fool with one of the team. At that, BA's normal scowl returned. He hoped Hannibal didn't come up with some hair-brained plan to get them out of here. It was one thing when they were full-strength, but with Face all messed up like that...  
  
He shuddered, thinking about the disaster below. And immediately put his mind back on his task. He gathered up all the rope he could find, pulling on it to test the strength. It would work. He saw Hannibal going through Richie's pack, pulling out heavy shirts. They'd be ready about the same time. Good. The sooner they got Face into camp and comfortable, the better they'd all feel.  
  
BA went back to the bank and started slinging the rope into the branches, between two of the bigger trees. He pulled hard on them, testing the branches he'd selected. Satisfied, he tied off the rope and ran another line. When he had three tight lines running together between the trees, he headed back to the camp and returned with one of the horses.  
  
Hannibal, in the meantime, had returned to the stream, and he and Murdock were busy buttoning the shirts around the two remaining tent poles. They hurried, as Face was getting more and more restless, starting to mumble anxiously. Finished with the makeshift litter, he looked up at BA.  
  
"Okay, what are we doing, BA?"  
  
"You get him on the litter, we'll tie the ropes around it and up over these ropes, and then we'll pull him up with the horse. Ain't quite a block and tackle but it's the best I could do in a hurry."  
  
Hannibal looked at BA, then over to Murdock, grinning. "The man's a genius, Murdock, a pure genius."  
  
"What do you expect from a Mountie, Colonel?" Murdock grinned back at Hannibal, the grin getting even bigger when he saw BA's scowl deepen.  
  
"Ain't no Mountie, fool."  
  
Murdock cocked his head. "No, that's right. I'm the Mountie. You must be the Moutinette!"  
  
Hannibal chuckled as he moved the stretcher next to Face, suddenly getting serious again as he looked at his lieutenant. His eyes were starting to flutter, and his hands were twitching. The mumbling became louder, faster. Damn. He was caught between relief that Face was finally waking up, and wishing he'd waited until they had him moved.  
  
"Hold on, BA. He's waking up."  
  
Murdock eagerly moved over to Face's other side, waiting for those eyes to look up at him. They snapped open suddenly, wide and frightened.  
  
"Burning! I'm burning!" The shouts were panicked, as Face sat bolt upright and started clawing at his injured leg. He grabbed at the splint, at the bandages, trying to tear them away.  
  
Hannibal grabbed Face's hands before he could cause more damage, while Murdock grabbed him around the chest, trying to calm him down. They could both feel the terrible shaking in his body.  
  
"Face, it's okay, you're not burning, you're not!" Murdock was practically shouting in his ear, trying to reach through the panic and pain, but Face just kept yelling and fighting.  
  
"BA, take his hands!" BA had rushed down the bank once more, and now grasped the struggling hands, holding them together and away from the leg. Hannibal rushed to the first aid kit, pulling out a syringe and the painkiller. Quickly he drew out a dose. Murdock helped him pull down the shoulder of Face's jacket, and without waiting, ripped the sleeve open. The needle went in and after more long minutes of struggling, Face finally slid into a daze.  
  
*****  
  
BA looped the ropes and tied them tightly around the stretcher where Face was looking dully at the preparations. He ran the ropes through his hands as he climbed one more time up the hated bank, then threw them over the suspended ropes and carefully fastened them to the packsaddle. He went back, looked at the men waiting below.  
  
"You ready? You gonna keep up with him okay?"  
  
"We run into trouble we'll yell, BA. Just take it easy."  
  
BA scowled back. As if he wouldn't be careful. He stepped up to the horse's head, taking the bridle and gently urging her forward. Obligingly, the horse started moving. BA watched the ropes slowly pull tight, and start sliding over the rope bridge between the trees.  
  
Below, Hannibal and Murdock held onto the stretcher as it slowly started lifting up. They held it away from the bank as it glided by, having to scramble a bit on the soft earth. In a few minutes, it was above the ledge and they guided it carefully away from the crumbling bank. BA stopped the horse and they quickly undid the ropes.  
  
Hannibal grinned at him as he walked over. "Worked like a charm, BA." BA just scowled again. Like anything he put together wouldn't work right.  
  
In a few short minutes, Face was safely in one of the tents, the stretcher now resting on a camp cot. Murdock was sitting with him, while BA fixed the hot breakfast Hannibal had happily planned for them earlier. The Colonel, in the meantime, was talking to Spiro.  
  
"C'mon, Colonel, at least untie us from these trees, okay? It's inhumane!"  
  
"Tell me about the plane, Richie. Then I'll let you guys loose from the trees. When is it due back?"  
  
Spiro glared at him. One thing he should've remembered about the Old Man - he was stubborn as hell. Sighing, he decided cooperation would be the best route, for now.  
  
"It comes once a week. He was just here Tuesday; he won't be back until next Tuesday."  
  
Next Tuesday. Shit. Five more days. Hannibal glanced at the tent where Face and Murdock were. Wait for the plane, or go cross-country? Hannibal looked back at Richie.  
  
"No way of getting him before that?"  
  
"No. Radios don't work out here - too many mountains in the way." He couldn't help another small smile. "Kinda puts you in a quandary, huh, Colonel? Awful hard to move an injured man along with five guys that just don't want to go with you."  
  
Hannibal smiled right back. "You know, Richie, you never could keep your mouth shut. Hope you're not allergic to bark."  
  
Hannibal turned and walked calmly away. Inside he was seething. For two cents, he'd leave these slimeballs right there, just the way Richie had left them. But the A-Team didn't do things that way. He kept reminding himself of that.  
  
Five days. It would probably take two, maybe three to get back to the lake. He walked over to his pack, pulled the maps out. Looked at the road Face had pointed out. It would take at least four days to reach it. At least. The nearest town was maybe ten miles from where they would hit the road. A good four-hour jaunt. Cross-country or plane, it didn't make much difference.  
  
Either way, Face was probably screwed.  
  
*****  
  
Spiro knew he shouldn't have expected to be released from the tree after baiting Smith like that, but he'd gotten the reaction he wanted. The Old Man may look calm, but Richie knew exactly what was going on in that brain. If there was one thing he'd learned under Smith's command, it was the art of rattling the enemy. Over the next few days, Richie planned to do a lot of rattling. He knew how to get to Smith. There were a lot of things he knew about the man. How much he cared about the welfare of the men entrusted to him, how much he treasured making his famous plans work, how much he reveled in success. That he didn't consider himself a fool. All that was about to change.  
  
Knowledge was power. And Spiro had the power. Like the thing with the plane. Sure, he'd told Smith when it was due in next. But there was one thing he hadn't told him, and wouldn't. The signal. The pilot would look for the signal, the signal that said there were no Mounties around, that all was clear. And when he didn't see it, he would just fly off again, to return the following week.  
  
And the following week, Spiro had no doubts he and his men would be there, with another full load to go.


	11. Chapter 11

Hannibal stepped into the tent, looking closely at his lieutenant. Face's eyes were open, but dull and seemed to roam randomly around the tent. His whole body tensed when Hannibal touched the area around the bandages, and again when he checked the foot. Hannibal was relieved to find both warm but not hot. He looked back at Face, noted that those eyes were locked on him now.  
  
"Don't worry, Face. We'll get you out of here and back to LA in no time." He smiled, but got no response.  
  
He turned to Murdock. "Has he said anything, done anything?"  
  
Murdock shook his head. "Nope, in fact this is the first time he's actually looked at anything. I think that shot sent him off to Never Never Land. Like the far side of Never Never Land. Like..."  
  
"Okay, okay, Murdock, I got the picture." Now came the hard part. "Actually, I'm glad to hear that it hit him that hard. It'll make it easier." Murdock looked up at him, confused. "I checked our stores and Richie's, Murdock, and there's no way we can keep giving Face a full dose each time. It's going to be at least five days before that plane comes back and there just isn't enough to last that long. But if we don't have to give him that much..."  
  
"Now, wait a minute, Colonel. We can't just willy-nilly cut back on the dosage. I mean, how do we know how much it's really gonna take? And he's not totally out of it, even now. You saw how he tensed up when you touched him."  
  
"Murdock, I know that. I also know that if we run out before we get him to a hospital, it's going to be worse. That's why I need you to keep an eye on him, make sure he's not in too much pain, but that we're not sending him off to La-La-Land either. I don't like it, and I don't want him in pain, but he's going to have to live with uncomfortable." Hannibal looked down at Face. He was still staring at him. "We don't have any other choice."  
  
"But, Colonel..."  
  
"Murdock, I'm sorry. More sorry than you know. But there's nothing else I can do."  
  
Murdock looked over at Face, frowning as he realized that Face was looking at Hannibal. How much had he taken in?  
  
Hannibal stood for a moment longer. At some point, when Face was lucid enough, he'd have to explain it to him, too, but for some reason he thought Face would take it better than Murdock. He hoped so.  
  
*****  
  
"Tell him?"  
  
"Yes, and you were right, he didn't take it well at all." Hannibal sighed, taking the cup of coffee BA handed him. "I tried to explain it to him, but..."  
  
"But he thinks you're gonna pull a miracle out of the sky. I tol you, Hannibal. But he'll come around. What about Face?"  
  
"He's still too far gone to talk to. But like I told Murdock, that's a good thing. Maybe it won't be too hard on him. It's only five days. He's strong. He can handle that."  
  
"Who you tryin to convince, Hannibal?" BA looked up at him. He'd known the Colonel longer than any of the others, and he'd never seen him this...hesitant. "Hannibal, you okay?"

"Yeah, BA. Guess seeing Face in that damn trap hit me harder than I realized. We'll stick around until after lunch, give everybody a chance to rest up, then head out. Make a little progress, anyway."  
  
'Yeh, and get away from here, too.' BA knew that's what Hannibal really wanted to do. He shook his head as Hannibal moved away, looking through more of the supplies. Man would have the whole camp memorized if he kept it up.  
  
BA stepped into the tent, quietly so he didn't startle Face if he was awake. He wasn't. At least, his eyes were closed. Murdock started to speak and then saw it was BA.  
  
"Hey, man. Why don't you go get some coffee or somethin? You been in here all mornin. I'll stay a bit."  
  
Murdock almost said no, then changed his mind. He wanted to check the medical supplies himself. Not that he didn't trust Hannibal, but he might have misjudged the amounts. He wasn't used to dealing with that stuff, not like Murdock was.  
  
BA sat stiffly in the campstool Murdock vacated. His eyes wandered involuntarily to Face's leg. It still made him wince. At least the color seemed good. BA looked up at his face, and was startled to see Face staring at him.  
  
"Hey, Face. Glad to see you awake."  
  
Face's lips moved, but BA couldn't hear what he was saying. He stood and moved closer. "Say again, Face?"  
  
"Poach..." The word was slow and slurred.  
  
"We got 'em, Face. Don't worry." He looked at him for a moment, then added, "You scared 'em good, Face."  
  
His eyes already closing, Face smiled.  
  
BA smiled back. Sometimes it was so easy...  
  
*****  
  
Spiro watched Murdock, the crazy guy, going through their medical kit. Strange. Smith had done that, a couple of different times. Now this guy. What was going on? He watched as Smith came up to the crazy man, and he didn't look too happy. This oughta be interesting.  
  
"What's going on, Murdock?"  
  
"Oh, uh, nothing, Hannibal. I, uh, just wanted to check the meds. I mean, I know you checked them already, but..."  
  
"But you don't think I know as much about this stuff as you do."  
  
"I just wanted to make sure, Hannibal. I wasn't doubting you, honest. I just..."  
  
"Murdock, I understand your concern. But, one, I have no intention of deliberately causing Face any more pain than absolutely necessary. And, two, I don't intend to have the people under my command questioning my decisions. Is that understood?"  
  
"Hannibal..."  
  
"Captain. Is that understood?"  
  
Murdock looked down at the ground, anger spreading over his features. Finally, he looked up at Hannibal, his face a calm mask.  
  
"Yes sir, Colonel. That's understood."  
  
He and Hannibal stared at each for another moment before Hannibal finally walked away. Murdock mumbled something to himself before heading back to the tent.  
  
Spiro watched all of it, and smiled.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal checked one more time on Face. He was a little more awake, but didn't seem to know or care what was going on around him. Good.  
  
He stepped outside and checked around the camp. Or what was left of it. BA and Murdock were finishing the cleanup; otherwise the only thing really left was the tent where Face lay. Once everything else was done, they would move Face out, pack up the tent, and move out.  
  
They had talked it over, and decided on the only way to handle everyone. One of them would take point, followed by two of the poachers carrying the litter with Face. Then one of the packhorses, followed by the other three poachers and the second team member, and finally the last packhorse. The third man would 'float' along the caravan, just in case. No one was happy with two prisoners carrying Face, but they had no other way.  
  
BA stepped up to the first two men who would be handling the litter, glaring at them. They both stepped back anxiously.  
  
"You listen up, suckers. You pull anything, and I mean the littlest thing, while you're carryin him, and you answer to me. Got that?"  
  
Unable to speak, they both nodded. They, too, remembered BA from Nam, and there was no way in hell they were going to cross him. But after he walked away, they looked over at Richie, staring at them.  
  
A rock and a hard place. They were going to lose no matter what.


	12. Chapter 12

From the very beginning, Spiro was complaining, loudly. The men between the packhorses had their hands tied in front of them, and then were tied to a rope that went from one horse to the other. Over the rough terrain it was hard to keep up with the steady pace of the horses, and Spiro let the Team know it loud and clear.  
  
"C'mon, Colonel. We can't walk with our hands tied like this. We can't keep our balance. This how you treat people? Colonel? Someone's gonna get hurt like this! Then what?"  
  
Hannibal looked at Richie, cigar smoldering between his teeth. "I'd suggest you hang onto the rope, then, Richie. And be careful where you step."  
  
Richie glared back at Hannibal, but it was all for show. Sure, it was hard, but nothing he and his men couldn't deal with. The main idea was to irritate. And despite Smith's cool demeanor, Spiro knew it was working.  
  
Hannibal stepped forward, being careful himself where he stepped. He didn't think they were on any kind of wildlife trail, where traps could be expected, but he wasn't taking any chances. The path they were taking was really more of a series of small clearings. Hannibal had planned their trek to the lake with close attention to the terrain, wanting to stay on as level a ground as possible, while still allowing them enough time to reach their destination well before the plane arrived. The trip was still rough - there was no such thing as level in this wilderness.  
  
He walked beside the litter for a few minutes. Roger and Zach seemed to have taken BA's warning to heart, and were handling the wounded man with kid gloves. Despite their best efforts, the ride was rough on Face, and it didn't take a close look to see it. He was sickly pale, and his eyes were closed tightly. Every time the stretcher was jostled, Hannibal could see him biting his lip. Enough.  
  
"Hold up! Take a break."  
  
The litter was positioned on the ground carefully, and BA moved in immediately to move the bearers back with the other prisoners. Hannibal knelt down next to Face, knowing Murdock would be there in moments. He checked the vitals, noting that the pulse was a little faster than it should be. He reached down and gently felt around the wounded area. Again, Face tensed. Hannibal wasn't happy; the skin around the bandage felt warmer than it had before. He'd like to give him more antibiotics, but couldn't for another few hours. Hannibal checked his watch. He and Murdock, after a hard look at reality, had worked out a schedule for the painkillers, and dosages. Face could have another shot in twenty minutes.  
  
Murdock had knelt down beside them now. "How's he doing?"  
  
"I think we're going to take a break until we can give him the next shot. This bouncing around isn't helping any." He nodded to Murdock and stepped off to the side. With a worried glance at Face, Murdock followed.  
  
"It's not good, but I want to keep moving, try to get as far as we can before it gets too late in the day. When we stop, you and I better check him out a little more thoroughly. We may have to do some cleanup."  
  
"Okay, Hannibal."  
  
Hannibal looked at Murdock, trying to read him. He hadn't spouted anything about the Mounties since the little debacle over the medicines, but Hannibal had noticed he was repeatedly mumbling to himself. They didn't need Murdock going off the deep end right now.  
  
"You okay, Murdock?"  
  
"Sure, Colonel. Sure."  
  
"Okay, because Face needs all of us now. We can't fall apart on him."  
  
"I won't, Hannibal. I'll keep it together."  
  
Hannibal nodded, gave him a soft pat on the shoulder, and headed back to check on the prisoners. Next problem.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal didn't want Spiro and his men conferring, but they couldn't stop them completely without gagging them, and Hannibal knew, at this altitude, that was going too far. Although after listening to Spiro's complaints he was sorely tempted. So the most the Team could do was make a nuisance of themselves with their close proximity. Spiro might be making plans, but it would take a lot longer to spread the word.  
  
It was one of those moments when the prisoners could talk, as Hannibal and BA conferred. Spiro wanted to know how Peck was doing, what Roger and Zach had observed. He nodded, satisfied.  
  
"Ok, you make sure he has as rough a ride as possible without being obvious. Got it?"  
  
Roger didn't like that. "Hell, Rick, he can't do nothing to us."  
  
"No, but the worse he is, the more distracted the rest of them are. And we're gonna make sure they get plenty distracted, got it?"  
  
No one said anything, but Richie knew they would do as they were told. They'd be walking a fine line between their boss and Smith, but there was no real choice. They were looking at a lot of years behind bars if the Colonel won this contest.  
  
They stopped talking when Hannibal and BA stepped over to them.  
  
"Okay, Kollman, you and McCaleb are next. Like BA told these two - you pull any funny stuff, and you'll wish you'd fallen into that trap. Understand?" Hannibal was staring straight at Spiro as he spoke.  
  
Kollman and McCaleb nodded, but Spiro just smiled slyly at Hannibal. He and the colonel both knew Spiro himself would never get near the lieutenant. The real question was how strong a hold did Richie have on his men. How far would they go for him? Or more appropriately, who were they more afraid of?  
  
"All right, get ready to move out." Hannibal left BA in charge of the men, and headed back up to Murdock and Face.  
  
"All set, Captain?"  
  
Murdock looked up, surprised at the clipped tone of voice. "Just shot him up, Hannibal. You okay?"  
  
The colonel looked down at Murdock, startled. First BA, now Murdock. Better get a grip. "I'm okay. I'd just really like to pop Richie."  
  
"After me, Hannibal. And I'm after BA." He grinned, and Hannibal found himself relaxing. "But," Murdock continued with more than a little regret, "it's against everything we Mounties stand for, to hit a man with his hands tied. But I might temporarily resign my post if the need arises."  
  
Hannibal laughed out loud at that. "No, Murdock, I think we might need Dudley intact for this trip. But I give you permission to resign just before we put Richie in the hands of your 'comrades'."  
  
"Thank you, Sir!" Murdock once again snapped a salute.  
  
Hannibal walked up to take point, still chuckling. For a few moments he allowed himself to believe that things might just work out after all.


	13. Chapter 13

It took a long time to set up camp. A long time. BA was getting more and more tense, as he and Hannibal watched Spiro's men set up the tents. He didn't like these guys handling hammers and stakes; mostly he didn't like that they kept looking over at Spiro every time BA or Hannibal told them to do something. Every now and then he'd see Spiro looking over at Murdock and Face, with the damn smile. BA knew Spiro was at fault for a lot of the problems Face was having. But he hadn't been able to catch his men doing anything other than what they should. He just knew they were doing something. Face wouldn't be in that much pain if they hadn't.  
  
He also knew it was the lower dose of painkiller that was causing problems. And that was really becoming a bone of contention between Hannibal and Murdock. Sure, they'd come to an understanding of sorts. But as it became harder and harder for Face to hide the agony - and he was trying real hard to hide it - the more anxious Murdock got. He'd at least gone back to that Dudley Do-Right thing, which, as much as BA hated to admit it, was a good thing. It actually helped keep Murdock on track. But there was a tone coming into it as the day passed that BA did not like at all.  
  
And Hannibal. BA looked over at him, trying not to be obvious. Hannibal was watching the last tent going up, looking casual, cigar smoking, but BA could tell he wasn't nearly as relaxed as he was pretending to be. Spiro was really getting on everyone's nerves, but especially Hannibal's. Richie knew all the buttons to push, all right. He'd gotten to know the Colonel real well over in Nam; too well, it seemed. He knew exactly what to say, when to say it, to get under Hannibal's skin. BA had never seen anyone who could do that.  
  
Spiro himself was secured over by the horses, smirking. It wasn't just Hannibal he knew about. He knew military tactics. He knew the strain the Team was going to feel, was already feeling. Three men to guard five, take care of a wounded man, move them cross-country through very rough land - something would have to give, at some point. They all knew that's why Hannibal was pushing to get to the lake as quickly as humanly possible. Once there, it would be easier to watch the prisoners, not moving all the time, setting up a new camp in a new area. Once they were at the lake, and Murdock had taken Face on the plane, they'd be settled in, and it would be easier for the two remaining men to watch the prisoners until help arrived. The success of the whole expedition relied on their reaching the lake before all hell broke loose.  
  
Four more days. BA only hoped hell would hold off that long.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was trying to make Face more comfortable, but there wasn't a lot he could do. He'd given him some more water, and wiped off his face, and let him squeeze the daylights out of his hand, but that was all. Hannibal had been right to worry about that wound. Murdock had checked it a few minutes before and it felt a lot warmer than it had. And Face had damn near jumped off the stretcher when he'd touched it. Murdock looked over at the other men. As soon as the tents were up, he and Hannibal would have to get a good look at the leg, and he just knew it wasn't going to be easy for any of them.  
  
"Murdock..."  
  
He quickly looked down at Face, wiping away any worry that might be showing. "Hey, Muchacho, they're just about done with the tents. We'll have you settled in in no time."  
  
"Hurts..."  
  
"I know, buddy. Just try to hang on a little while longer and we'll get you something for it, okay?"  
  
Face just closed his eyes. Murdock wanted to yell, or hit something, or...something. They were letting Face down. He shouldn't have to go through this. Not when they could do something about it. He just shouldn't.  
  
He looked around at the trees and the brush and the camp and wished to hell they had never come up here.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal carefully removed the bandages, trying not to jar the splint any more than he had to. He kept glancing at Face, noting regretfully how the hands were so tightly grasping the poles of the litter, but not a sound came from the man. Hannibal had always known the kid had guts; he was going all out to prove it, too.  
  
"You can holler if you want, Face. It's going to hurt."  
  
Face just looked up at the top of the tent and closed his eyes. Hannibal sighed and returned to the bandages. Murdock took them away as Hannibal peeled them off, dumping them in a hole he'd dug just outside the tent. When Hannibal finally took the last of them off, he saw exactly what he'd been dreading. The skin was red and puffy, and hot to the touch.  
  
"Okay, Murdock, he's got an infection starting. I don't see any pus yet, so maybe we've caught it early enough. Get that other bottle of iodine and boil some water. A lot of water. We've got a lot of work to do here."  
  
He stood up to stretch cramped muscles, and glanced again at Face. This time the look was returned, fear in the eyes. And resignation. Hannibal wished he could tell him it would be okay.  
  
A few minutes later, Murdock brought in the first of the pots of boiling water and iodine, and they began the process of cleaning the wounds.  
  
*****  
  
He stood beside the cot. He'd sent Murdock out, letting him know he wanted a few minutes alone with Face. Murdock thought he knew what Hannibal wanted to do, that he was going to explain about the painkillers, but that was only part of it. The Colonel had seen so many more injuries than Murdock or BA, both in Nam and Korea. He'd seen enough to accept certain outcomes as likely, others as inevitable. He wasn't about to say anything to the others; there was no need for that yet. But Face needed to know what was going on.  
  
"Face? You awake, kid?"  
  
"Yeah." He was still very pale, and hadn't quite stopped shaking yet, but he opened his eyes, waiting.  
  
"Face, we gotta talk a bit here." Damn, he didn't want to do this.  
  
"Not...good, huh?"  
  
"No, Face, it's not good. I think we got most of the infection cleared out. We'll keep pumping in the antibiotics, cleaning it out. We should be able to fight it off, but, well, these things can be pretty stubborn." Hannibal ran his hand over his face. "We're going to hijack Spiro's plane at the lake, but it'll be a couple days before it comes back. That's why we have to skimp on the painkiller. Have to make it last. You understand?"  
  
"Yeah."  
  
They sat for a moment in silence before Face spoke again.  
  
"Hannibal...am I...will I..."  
  
God, what Hannibal had dreaded. He'd planned on being totally honest with him, but he couldn't. Not yet, anyway.  
  
"Hey, we found it early. Like I said, we'll keep up with the drugs and cleaning it and..."  
  
"And...if that...doesn't work?"  
  
"We don't have to worry yet, Face. Not yet."  
  
There was another silence, this time broken by Hannibal.  
  
"I'm sorry, Face. Sorry it's got to be so rough for you."  
  
"S'okay, Hannibal...shoulda watched...where I was...going..."  
  
"Don't worry. You'll run a few laps around the obstacle course when we get home, Lieutenant."  
  
"Sure...Colonel...any...time..." He drifted off, finally.  
  
Hannibal stepped out of the tent and pulled out a cigar. Before Murdock could ask him anything, he moved away to the edge of the camp and stared out into the darkness.  
  
There were some things a guy never got used to.  
  
*****  
  
Spiro had watched Murdock boiling the water, taken note of how long they were in the tent, heard the moans. He knew what was going on. And when Smith didn't come out when the crazy guy did, he figured there was bad news. Finally, he saw the Old Man step out and walk away, not talking to anyone. Probably the guy inside was either dead or was on his way out. He'd seen that same stance many times in Nam. It was never good.  
  
He lay back on his cot, frowning when the ropes on his wrists pulled. He wondered about the guy in the tent. Dead? Or dying?  He idly wondered how long it would take. Would Smith bother going to the lake afterwards, or head them south toward the road? It would all depend on how far they got before the guy croaked, he supposed.  
  
Well, he'd know in the morning. Then he could really start planning.


	14. Chapter 14

The next morning BA looked around as they were breaking camp, and knew that the hell he'd been dreading was getting close. Spiro and his men were acting more confident, more cocky. And Hannibal and Murdock looked like hell itself. He knew both men had been up and down throughout the night, taking care of Face when they weren't on watch. He didn't even want to think about Face. He'd looked in on him when everyone was first getting up and that told him the whole story.  
  
There was one change he was going to make. When they finally got started, Spiro was behind the second packhorse, alone. He would have no more contact with his men. None. BA knew a few things about military tactics, too. Like divide and conquer.  
  
Hannibal wanted to push hard now, move everyone forward at an increased pace. The sooner they reached the lake, the less bouncing and jarring Face would have to endure. If they were lucky, they'd reach the lake by end of day. If they were lucky. But luck seemed to be something they hadn't had much of this trip. Hell, they hadn't had any...  
  
*****  
  
Spiro had figured he would be separated from his men at some point. Didn't matter. They couldn't watch him all the time. When they made the first stop, and he realized they were building a quick campfire, he knew then he'd have plenty of chances. He stepped as far to the side as he could, so he could see better what was going on. Ah, the old pot of boiling water. The guy must have an infection in that leg. Too bad for him, but it sure as hell would work well for Spiro. The Old Man and Crazy were all involved with their preparations, BA was up front with them, bringing the litter bearers back with the others - man, this was great.  
  
Yes, it would work. The wounded man had taken precedence now, the prisoners given secondary importance, way down on the totem pole. BA was the only one really paying attention to them, and he couldn't watch three different groups.  
  
Spiro started thinking. Looked at his men, BA glaring a warning at him. Looked at the Old Man. Looked at the horses.  
  
Started smiling again.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal thought the leg looked a little better. He was sure of it. Not quite so red. Still too warm, but the color looked better. He smiled at Face, trying to be encouraging, but it didn't work. Face just looked at him and closed his eyes. Hannibal was starting to worry about the kid's attitude. Yes, it had been a rough night. And yes, it wasn't going to get any easier. But he didn't want him to just give up. Maybe he was just worn out.  
  
Hannibal stood up, looked over at Murdock, who was finishing up piling dirt over the fire. They could move out now. One last look at Face. At the leg. Yes. The color was better.  
  
He was sure of it.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock stuck the camp shovel back on the packsaddle, and turned to watch as Roger and Zach picked up the litter. They seemed careful, but Murdock cringed as Zach adjusted his hold and the whole thing bounced, just a little. A little too much? How could he tell? What was he supposed to do, tell the guy not to adjust his hold and then have the whole thing dropped?  
  
Murdock moved up past them, giving Zach a pronounced frown. At least he could let them know that he had seen it. Unintentional or not, it was a reminder to them. He headed up to point position, and moved forward at a brisk pace. Hannibal wanted them at the lake by nightfall. A pretty big order, in Murdock's mind. Especially with having to stop and take time to clean up the leg every three hours.  
  
Man, he was tired. They all were. Well, except the prisoners. At least they were getting a good night's sleep. And BA, too. Not that he begrudged him that. After all, he was basically handling Spiro's men on his own. Murdock was taking point almost all of the time now. Whether it was because Hannibal had suddenly changed his mind about Murdock's abilities or because he didn't want him hovering around Face, he didn't know. But Hannibal was spreading himself way too thin - worrying over Face, keeping track of where they were and where they were going, helping guard the poachers. And Spiro. Man, that guy was taking real pleasure in pushing Hannibal as far as he could.  
  
Once they got to the lake, the first thing Murdock was going to do was shove a gag in that guy's mouth. Fuck the Mounties.  
  
*****  
  
Face gritted his teeth once more as they laid the fire on his leg. No, no it wasn't fire; not fire. Hot packs. Hot packs. That's all. Keep it together, Peck...  
  
He wished they would stop. Stop putting the fire - the packs - on...stop moving. He could get better...if they would just...stop...moving...honest, Hannibal...I'll get better...just...give me a chance...only...stop...  
  
*****  
  
Spiro had his first opportunity to sneak a chat with his men when they stopped for a cold lunch break. BA was moving Roger and Zach over to a log to sit on, Smith and Crazy were checking on Gimpy. Spiro stepped around the packhorse and whispered a few quick words to Kollman and McCaleb. By the time BA came over, Spiro was back in place, casually checking out the surroundings. He smiled innocently when BA took him to a far tree stump to eat.  
  
Spiro and his people were on their best behavior after they started out again. Roger and Zach were now walking between the horses. Spiro hadn't had a chance to talk to them, but he noticed Kollman mumble something to Roger. Good.  
  
He'd had a little talk with the men last night, before BA had decided to separate everyone. A little reminder about what they were looking at, should Smith be successful. Another little reminder of who was in charge. Followed by some joking around, easy kidding. Mention of how much money was just sitting in that bank account, waiting for them.  
  
Spiro wasn't a stupid man. And he understood and could manipulate two things very easily - fear and greed.  
  
*****  
  
"It's not good, Hannibal. I think it's spreading."  
  
"I know, Murdock, I know. I hate to do it, but I'm going to give him an extra shot of antibiotics. Hopefully it won't be too much for him. And once we make camp for the night, we're going to keep putting hot packs on it, not just every couple hours."  
  
"What if it doesn't help, Hannibal? What if it gets worse?"  
  
"Damn it, we're not going to let it get worse."  
  
"And how are you going to stop it, Hannibal? If the drugs and the hot packs don't work, how are you going to stop it?" Spell it out, Hannibal. Say it so it's out there.  
  
Hannibal looked Murdock straight in the eye, and his voice was as cold and as hard as the pilot had ever heard it.  
  
"He'll lose the leg, Captain. It's as simple as that."  
  
*****  
  
Spiro had again stepped to the side to watch the proceedings. He was waiting for just the right moment. His men would know what was happening, and react accordingly. If it worked the way he wanted it to, they'd lose at least the rest of this day, possibly tomorrow as well. And put a hell of a lot more pressure on the Old Man and his men. It'd be bad for Gimpy, but he was as good as dead anyway.  
  
Okay. They were starting to move now. Crazy was taking point, Kollman and Pete picking up the litter. Spiro looked out for Smith and BA. Smith was walking alongside the litter; not the greatest, but it would still work. BA was beside Roger and Zach. Yeah, there was the look - BA checking on him. Okay. Okay. Everybody occupied now.  
  
Spiro moved up on the packhorse. Stepped slightly to the side. Brought his foot back and kicked at the flank with all his might.  
  
Even as he was jerked off his feet and yanked forward by the spooked horse, he was grinning.


	15. Chapter 15

Murdock looked back, saw the horse, piled high with supplies, rushing forward, pushing the men out of the way, running into the first horse, Roger and McCaleb being dragged behind, the horses ramming into Kollman, shoving him to the side, tipping the litter, Face falling, Hannibal raising his arms and shouting, trying to divert the oncoming horses, Zach dropping his end of the litter, Richie's wild-eyed grin, shouts from BA,men running. Murdock raised his gun, firing at them...

And then it was over.  
  
The absolute silence that filled the woods was invaded only by the heavy breathing of the horses, now held by BA, and the moans from the figure by the litter. The two men who had tried to run were standing frozen where spray from Murdock's rifle had cut off their retreat. The two others, still tied to the rope behind the horse, lay on the ground, breathing hard, bruised and shaken. Spiro leaned heavily against the second horse, breathing hard, watching Hannibal, who, after a moment of stunned inertia, moved painfully toward Face. BA was talking softly to the horses, calming them.  
  
"What the hell happened?" Murdock moved up cautiously.  
  
"Horses spooked." BA spoke softly, beginning to move the horses back and away from the men.  
  
"Spooked? From what?"  
  
They both looked up as a chuckle came from Spiro. He wiped his face with his hands, raw from holding the rope as he'd been dragged along.  
  
"Seems you fellas have a real streak of bad luck going..."  
  
The last thing Spiro saw was BA's fist crashing into his jaw.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal had no idea what happened. One minute they were walking through the woods, the next, all hell broke loose. He remembered seeing the horses charging toward them, and shouting at them. The next thing he knew he was holding Face, trying to calm him, saying whatever came into his head. Face was shaking almost uncontrollably, practically sobbing from the pain. Hannibal finally forced himself to look at the leg, and was almost overcome himself when he realized the splint had held. Granted, it was mud-covered and the bandages torn, but at least the damage was minimal compared to what could have happened.  
  
He pulled Face in closer and looked for Murdock. He and BA were rounding up the poachers, making sure the two runners were tied up tightly. Spiro was on the ground; Hannibal didn't know or care why.  
  
"Murdock."  
  
The pilot swung around and hurried over.  
  
"Fix a hypo. I want Face out. Now."  
  
Murdock didn't say a word, just hurried over to the now calm horses and pulled out the somewhat battered medical kit. He was nervous as he placed it on the ground, afraid of what damage might have been done. It looked like things had been shaken up, but nothing was broken. He hesitated only a moment, trying to remember what time Face had gotten the last shot, and then drew out enough to put him out. He hurried back and quickly shoved the needle in. Face's body slowly relaxed.  
  
"What happened? Anybody know?"  
  
"I think Richie spooked the horses. He was pretty happy about the whole thing." For a moment, Murdock thought Hannibal was going to lose it completely. He'd never seen such anger on his commander's face before. "BA took him out, Hannibal. But good."  
  
"That's the least of that bastard's worries." Hannibal looked away for a moment, then gathered his emotions together. "Okay, see if you can find one of the cots, and let's get Face settled. I'll check him over while you and BA get camp set up. We're obviously not going any further today."  
  
"Right, Colonel." Murdock went off in search of the cot, while Hannibal sat and held onto his lieutenant. And thought about what he was going to do to Richie.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock had set the cot up in a small clearing away from the path, away from the chaos. BA quickly repaired the disheveled stretcher and laid it on top before bringing Face over and placing him gently down. Hannibal had cleared an area for a fire, and soon had water heating. He had a job ahead of him, cleaning off the dirt and debris. He had to force himself to stay calm, but it was hard. Every time he looked at the man on the cot, he wanted to go over to Richie and blow his brains out. Hannibal had never felt so angry before, and he didn't like it. Not one bit. Sighing, he started cutting away the torn and dirtied bandaging.  
  
BA was dealing with the poachers in his own way. To his mind, they needed to be taught a lesson. They didn't mess with any of his Team. Ever. When he was finished, the five men were on the ground, side by side. Their hands were tightly tied behind their backs, their ankles crossed and secured. Last, BA gagged them. A night like that and they'd keep their mouths shut in the morning.  
  
Spiro, of course, tried to argue, but BA wasn't having any of it.  
  
"You cause me any more trouble and you'll be slung over that packhorse when we leave. Got it?"  
  
Spiro got it. He wasn't beaten, not by a long shot, but he was smart enough to know when to keep still.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal was again putting hot packs on the leg wounds when BA and Murdock finished putting the tents up. They carefully moved the cot into Face's tent and Murdock took over when BA insisted that Hannibal take a break.  
  
"You can't keep goin like this, Hannibal." BA handed him a cup of strong coffee and sat down by the fire. "Neither can Murdock. Tomorrow we're gonna stay put. You two are gonna get some sleep and then we'll go to the lake the day after."  
  
"And what about you, BA? You going to take care of Face and watch those slimeballs all by yourself?"  
  
"We'll take turns. And I mean, take turns. And those fools are learnin a lesson about messin with us. I took care of that. They won't be no trouble. Now, I'm gonna heat up some supper for us, and then you and Murdock are gonna call it a night. I'll wake you when it's your watch."  
  
"BA..."  
  
"I said what it's gonna be, Hannibal. You may outrank me, but don't think I forgot how to take down a Colonel."  
  
*****  
  
BA made a quick round of the camp before heading back into Face's tent. The prisoners were nice and secure, a couple of them glaring at him as he passed. They'd be good and stiff in the morning, and hungry as hell, too. They'd learn a good lesson. And when they found out they were gonna be trussed up all day tomorrow...BA almost smiled at the thought. Yeah, fools, you don't mess with BA Baracus.  
  
He looked in on Hannibal and Murdock, too. Just as he figured, they were dead to the world. Two stubborn mules. BA had had to threaten Murdock with a beefy fist before he'd leave Face. Neither one of them thought anybody could do things as well as they could. Especially when it came to Face.  
  
BA had never figured out the thing with Face. Murdock, that was just crazy. Half the time BA thought he was close to Face because Face was the only one who'd always play along with his craziness. But other times, he knew Murdock needed Face to keep him from losin it completely. From one extreme to the other, he seemed to need Face to keep him balanced. Problem was, he wanted Face to need him in return. Tit for tat. And everybody knew Face didn't need nobody. He made sure of that.  
  
Then there was Hannibal. He relied on Face a lot, and yet, he gave him such a hard time. Anytime he came close to givin him a compliment, he'd follow it up with some crack that was sure to make Face feel bad. Not that Hannibal did it deliberately, but you'd think after all these years he'd know how Face would take it. Then again, maybe he did know. Maybe makin Face want to prove somethin to him was how Hannibal made sure he would stay.  
  
As for BA himself...he knew Face was smart and he respected that. And he knew that despite that pretty boy look, the kid was a scrapper. He'd get right in there when he needed to. But more important, BA knew Face would always have his back. Most people wouldn't think BA would worry about that, but it was important to know that about the men you worked with. That you could trust 'em. And BA trusted Face. Well, except for the flyin. BA didn't trust none of 'em with that. But otherwise, he did trust Face. And he knew Face trusted him. At least, BA hoped he did.  
  
Trouble was they all had a habit of pickin on him. Followin Hannibal's lead again, or just plain orneriness, he wasn't sure which sometimes. Maybe it was just that Face took himself so seriously all the time...like that branch the other day. Damn. BA really felt bad about that now. He'd like to make it up to him, but he felt so...helpless.  
  
All he could do was keep puttin those packs on, changin them when they cooled off. Wipin off the crud as it surfaced. Just like the hot poultices his mama put on him when he was a kid and got hurt. Nothin could draw out an infection like a hot poultice. Or so he'd thought. Sure didn't seem to be doin a lot of good now. Maybe keepin up, but not gettin it any better.  
  
Face was stirring now. BA looked at his watch. He shouldn't be comin out of it yet. If he was quiet, maybe Face would just go back to sleep.  
  
Face opened his eyes, not really focusing. Someone was there...  
  
"BA..."  
  
"Yeah, Face. You all right. Just go back to sleep."  
  
"I'm all...fucked...up..."  
  
"For now. That'll be over soon, then we'll get you home."  
  
"Don't...leave me...here..." The words were slurred, but louder, urgent.  
  
"Are you crazy, man? 'Course we're not leavin you here! Where'd you get that fool idea?" Man, that's all Face needed. "Look, your head's just all messed up right now, man. We ain't leavin you. Period." He looked again at Face, wanting to convince him. "Hey, you got my word on it, Face. Okay?"  
  
That seemed to do the trick. Face gave a small nod, and closed his eyes again.  
  
BA just sat and watched him for a few minutes, then picked up another heat pack.


	16. Chapter 16

Hannibal moved slowly out of the tent and moved toward the campfire, where BA was fussing over a large kettle. He sank down on a stool, poured a cup of coffee and took his first real look over the camp. He smiled a little when he saw their prisoners. Well, BA had said they wouldn't be a problem. His gaze came to a stop when he came to Face's tent.  
  
"He's sleepin. Woke up a couple times in the night, but went right back to sleep again."  
  
"The infection?"  
  
"We're holdin our own. Don't think it's spreadin, but it ain't gettin any better, either."  
  
"Probably a good idea to stay put today, then." Hannibal looked over at BA, bemused. "Would you really have 'taken' me, BA?"  
  
"Yeah." There was no amusement in BA's response. He abruptly handed the spoon over to Hannibal and walked over to Face's tent. "You ain't no Superman, y'know. 'Bout time you learned that." He deliberately turned his back on his CO and stepped into the tent.  
  
Hannibal chuckled. He had to admit, a night of uninterrupted sleep had done wonders. He'd have to make sure BA got his sleep today. Tomorrow they'd get to the lake and the day after Face would be on the plane to a hospital. Probably another day or two before the Mounties showed up to take Richie and his bunch off their hands. Sipping at his coffee, he started thinking about the plane, and exactly how he planned on taking it.  
  
Murdock popped out of their tent a few minutes later and immediately headed over to see Face. He came out a few minutes later with a frown on his face.  
  
"Problem, Murdock?"  
  
"BA practically threw me out. I'm supposed to eat breakfast and get ready to take care of Richie's guys. I'm supposed to help him with them so they don't get out of line."  
  
"Sounds like a good plan, Murdock."  
  
"So BA's in charge now?"  
  
Hannibal looked over at the Captain. "No, Murdock, BA is not in charge, but I think his plan for these guys is a good one. Look, everyone's on a short rope right now. We've all been trying to do too much all at the same time. If we're going to get out of this, we need to start working together more. So you help BA with Richie, and I'll look after Face. When that's done, BA's going to get some sleep, I will deal with Face and you will deal with them. And then we'll change over. No more running around trying to do it all. If we had done this before, Richie wouldn't have had the opportunity to pull that shit yesterday."  
  
Murdock looked down at his coffee cup. He hated it when Hannibal got that 'be reasonable' tone to his voice. Especially when he was right.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was watching the prisoners, which consisted mainly of making sure they weren't talking to each other. BA had insisted they remain tied hand and foot, and no one argued with that. Spiro was several feet away from the others.  
  
"Hey...Murdock, is it?"  
  
"Shut up, Richie."  
  
"Okay, okay...but how's your buddy doing?"  
  
"I said shut up."  
  
Richie shut up, looked around the camp. He knew Smith was in with Gimpy, and BA was sleeping. This was probably the only chance he'd have with this guy and time was getting short.  
  
"Glad he didn't get banged up too bad yesterday."  
  
"What about 'shut up' don't you understand?"  
  
"Hey, I'm just saying it wasn't intended to get anybody hurt, y'know? I mean, wouldn't you try to escape?"  
  
Murdock ignored him. As long as he didn't say anything to the others, let him talk. Murdock had the idea that to someone like Richie, being ignored was as bad as getting gagged.  
  
"Hey, how'd you guys get up here anyway? Fly in? How come you're not going back to your plane?"  
  
Murdock flushed. He couldn't help it. If he hadn't crashed...  
  
It wasn't lost on Richie. "Plane trouble, huh? Happens up here. Engine trouble?"  
  
"You could say that." Murdock flushed deeper.  
  
"Ha! It crashed, didn't it?" Richie cocked his head, grinning. "And you were the pilot, weren't you? I remember you now. Howlin' Mad Murdock! Of course!"  
  
"Will you keep your mouth shut, or you want me to put a gag in it?"  
  
Richie sat back, still smiling. Gag or not, he had to push the last button.  
  
"Tough break, man. For your friend, I mean..."  
  
The gag was a little too tight, but it was worth it. Just to see the look on Crazy's face...  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal stepped out of the tent. The tension that had been so blissfully gone that morning was coming back. He had thought, like BA, that they were at least holding back the infection. Now he wasn't so sure. The puffiness was starting to spread, the skin beginning to darken. Face was getting restless again, too, and felt a little too warm. Hannibal sighed. Two more days before that damn plane arrived.  
  
He filled the big kettle with more water to boil. That was another thing. They were getting low on water. As the kettle heated, he pulled out the map. They'd been moving pretty much parallel to that stream. It was now about a mile and a half from camp. They'd have to load up one of the horses with the empty water jugs and get them filled up. And then boil it all. Well, BA would be getting up soon. He could take one of Richie's men with him and take care of it. BA could handle one of them with his little finger.  
  
Hannibal glanced over at the prisoners, noting that Richie was now gagged. It didn't surprise him. The man always did have a big mouth. He shook his head. He really had let Richie get to him the last couple of days. He shouldn't have. He knew exactly what the guy was trying to do, and he'd been succeeding. Because Hannibal had let him. He'd let his concern for Face override everything else. He couldn't do that any more.  
  
Hannibal sighed. He wasn't going to give up on Face, but he had to accept the realities of the situation. Even if Face did make it over the next two days, he still had a long way to go. And there were two other men on his team he needed to take care of. That stunt of Richie's yesterday...there could've been a lot more serious injuries than a few bruises. But Hannibal had been worrying about Face, not helping BA watch them.  
  
And Murdock...Hannibal was getting concerned about him. Even after last night's rest, he still seemed too intense. Murdock typically went one of two ways when things were getting to be too much for him - either more and more outlandish in his fantasies, or more and more serious and intense. Hannibal was torn between giving in to him a little more, letting him be close to Face more, and trying to keep him away from that. God only knew what would happen if Face didn't make it.  
  
And what about himself? What would he do if Face...he shook his head. He wasn't going to go there. Not now. He'd deal with that when he had to. If he had to. Damn.  
  
Angrily he pulled the kettle of now boiling water from the campfire and headed back into the tent.  
  
*****  
  
By nightfall, plans had been settled for the next day. BA would have Spiro and two men again between the horses, but he would stay with them at all times. BA had reiterated his promise to Richie to gag him and throw him over a horse if he said one word, and Richie knew he would carry out his promise.  
  
Murdock would be in charge of the two men carrying Face, and Hannibal would be on point. He figured they could get to the lake within four or five hours if they didn't stop. They all knew a non-stop hike probably wouldn't happen, but it gave them a goal.  
  
Hannibal had kept Murdock away from Face as much as he could, telling him that he needed to be rested for the plane trip. While it was true, he mainly didn't want Murdock to watch the downhill slide Face was taking. Tomorrow would be bad enough, but he'd also have to be watching the carriers and where he was going. He wouldn't be able to fixate on Face.  
  
It was partly self-preservation on Hannibal's part that he was taking point. All day he'd watched the infection slowly creeping further and further. He'd watched as the initially low fever rose. No matter what they did, they couldn't stop it. He kept remembering his conversation with Murdock, the pilot's demand that he come out and say it. The problem was, he didn't know if he could do it. He tried to think back to his training, to the problems he would face. Shit, if he didn't do it just right, Face could bleed out in a matter of minutes.  
  
Damn. Damn!  
  
BA came into the tent. They had maneuvered the schedule so Murdock would have no contact with Face until morning, when they headed out, again giving the excuse of the plane trip. There had been something in Murdock's acceptance that Hannibal hadn't liked. Something resigned about it. Hannibal began to wonder if he should've asked about Spiro that morning. If the man could get to Hannibal the way he had, what might he have said to Murdock?  
  
"All set, Hannibal?"  
  
"I guess. He's not any better. Watch the fever; if it starts going up fast, let me know."  
  
"And what would you do that I wouldn't? Hannibal, give it a rest. Ain't nothin any of us can do that we ain't already doin. We just gotta keep doin it and pray for the best."  
  
"I know, BA, I know." Hannibal moved out of the tent, then turned back. "If he..."  
  
"It ain't gonna happen. He's got more fight in him than you give him credit for, Hannibal. Always did."  
  
Hannibal just nodded and headed for his tent. BA once again settled down next to the cot. He wished to hell they had never come up here.


	17. Chapter 17

Spiro was now resigned to the idea that they would indeed make it to the lake. BA was keeping too close an eye on him to try anything else. He was starting to think maybe his plan from the other day had backfired on him. Sure, it had pushed back their progress a day, but they were still going to make it in time. In time to see the plane go flying off without them. He chuckled at that, stifling it quickly when BA glared at him. He sighed. That was something he hadn't thought about. Giving Smith and his men time to rest up. Time to get organized.  
  
But then, he hadn't thought Smith would give up on his man, either. And it was obvious he had. He'd been keeping an eye on things, and the Old Man hadn't been back once to check on the litter. Just left that up to Crazy. But then he couldn't understand the rush to the lake. Unless Smith just wanted to keep the others from knowing. Sure, dummy. Just keeping up morale.  
  
Well, well, well. Be a double whammy tomorrow then. No plane and a dead man. Wonder what the hell Smith planned to do then?  
  
*****  
  
BA scowled at Spiro. Didn't see why the guy was chucklin like that but it couldn't be anything good. He quickly looked at the other two, but they had their eyes glued to the ground in front of them. They'd been slow movin that morning, stiff and sore from being tied up, but BA didn't care one bit. He wasn't a mean man by nature, but these guys...  
  
He looked up ahead at Murdock. He felt sorry for the pilot. Never thought he'd think that, but it was true. He was worryin so much about Face. Tryin to hold it all together for him. Not that Face knew it. Face was so far out of it...BA had never seen anyone go downhill so fast. It scared him. It really did. He kept thinking back to what he'd promised Face and he had a sudden, horrible thought. Had he misunderstood? Had Face meant he didn't want to be buried here? Did Face think...God, he hoped not.  
  
*****  
  
Murdock was ready to get Hannibal to take a break. Face was just...he didn't move or twitch or even moan. Giving Roger and Zach a fierce warning look, he moved ahead a few feet.  
  
"Hannibal! We need to stop for a bit."  
  
Hannibal turned around with a start, saw the look on Murdock's face, and nodded.  
  
Murdock immediately had the men put the litter down, and marched them back to BA. He helped tie their hands to the rope with the others, and then went back to Face, grabbing the now hated kettle on the way. In a few minutes, he had a space cleared and a fire started, the kettle in place. He moved back beside the litter and started bathing the hot face with cool water. He tried to get Face to swallow some water, but most of it just dribbled away. He would've cried with frustration, but he'd told Hannibal he wouldn't fall apart, that he'd keep it together for Face, and he would. Like a good Mountie. A good Mountie was cheerful, loyal, brave...no, no, that was a Scout. He was a Mountie. Dudley Do...no, no. He wasn't a Mountie. He shook his head, sadly giving up Dudley. No. He wasn't a Mountie any more. He was just a broken down pilot who was trying not to lose his best friend.  
  
He looked over at the kettle, realized the water was finally hot. He got ready to clean and soak the wound.  
  
*****  
  
Hannibal didn't go back when they stopped. Instead, he knelt on the ground and pulled out the maps again, although he figured he must know them by heart. Double-checked his path, his numbers. Nothing had changed, they were still on course and would arrive, even with this delay and doubtless others, well before nightfall. And then in the morning they would prepare for the plane. And they would take the plane and put Face on it and Murdock would fly him out of this godforsaken place. And then the Mounties would come and he and BA could leave, too. And go...wherever Face was.  
  
Actually, it was a good thing they were in Canada. They'd be able to take him to a hospital right away, no questions asked, no worrying about the military barging in on things, just let him stay until he was recovered enough to go home to LA. Oh, sure, they'd have to find some place to hole up once they got back, Face would take quite some time to heal up, but that was okay, they'd find a place, a nice place, a big condo, or maybe a beachfront house, where Face could sit out on the beach and meet all the bikini-clad girls, soak in their sympathy...  
  
That's what they'd do. They'd find a place on the beach for him.  
  
*****  
  
Some time later, Murdock signaled the rest that he was ready to go. All his ministrations had really accomplished nothing, but at least he felt like he had done something. Hannibal nodded and started forward. He hadn't even come back to check on Face. Murdock didn't blame him. The Colonel and BA had seen enough last night. He was actually glad he hadn't been there. It was bad enough to see him now; he didn't think he could've handled watching the actual downhill slide.  
  
He adjusted his pack and moved ahead, walking calmly and steadily beside the litter.  
  
*****  
  
Face opened his eyes, watched through a haze as trees passed by overhead. He looked at the figure ahead of him, saw only a colored blur. He didn't know this guy. He was aware of someone just behind him. Didn't know him, either. He tried to turn his head, but his stomach flipped and he closed his eyes and stayed still. Where was Hannibal? Or Murdock? He hadn't seen BA for...a long time. None of them, for a long time. Just these strangers. Always these strangers.  
  
His leg was burning, but he didn't try to put it out. It wouldn't stop burning no matter what he did. He knew that. Besides, they'd stop him. These guys, they wanted it to burn. Wanted him to burn. Burn up into ashes so they wouldn't have to deal with him any more. And he was burning. He could feel it, all over, burning all over. Soon he'd just be ashes, floating on the wind. Well, that wouldn't be so bad. Floating away like that.  
  
Ashes to ashes...  
  
Where was Hannibal?  
  
He didn't want to die with strangers.


	18. Chapter 18

Hannibal had never seen anything quite so beautiful, and it wasn't the scenery he was thinking about. He could have been looking at a slime-covered fishpond and it would still have been beautiful. It didn't matter.  
  
Turning excitedly, he called to the rest of the group and headed down to the shore. Within moments they were all gathered and allowed themselves a moment of respite. But only a moment. BA and Hannibal started the prisoners to work on setting up the camp. Hannibal chose a spot a few yards from the shore, hidden among the trees. He was taking no chances on scaring off the pilot by advertising their presence.  
  
He had been a little leery of how willingly Richie had given directions to the landing point, but then again, that plane also represented one last chance for escape. Not that there was a snowball's chance in hell that Richie would get anywhere near it, but Hannibal knew it would be there in the poacher's mind.  
  
As soon as the camp was settled, and the prisoners once again secured, Hannibal turned and moved reluctantly toward the tent where Face was. Murdock was still with him, and Hannibal didn't like the looks of either man. Face had a definite gray tinge to his skin, and his breathing was labored. Murdock looked like he was ready to fall apart, nervously rearranging the med kit, repeatedly touching Face's forehead, in constant motion.  
  
"How is he, Murdock?"  
  
"Not good, Colonel. Not good at all. I started using smelling salts, just to bring him around enough to get some water down him. But he never really comes to. I don't know, Hannibal, he just..."  
  
"All right. I want you to take a break. Go get some sleep, or take a walk. Just take a break. I'll watch him."  
  
Murdock reluctantly left the tent. Hannibal sat next to the cot, watching Face's breathing for a moment before gently raising him up to rest against his shoulder. He was gratified when the breathing eased, even if it was only a little.  
  
Richie had said the plane was due tomorrow at noon. Hannibal could only hope that would be soon enough.  
  
*****  
  
Their plan was so simple, it had to go off without a hitch. Roger and Zach would stand around on the shore, as if everything was normal. They would greet the pilot and move him away from the plane, while Murdock slipped around behind and got in. Once Murdock was in the plane, Hannibal and BA would come out of hiding and take the pilot into 'custody'. Roger and Zach's cooperation was ensured with BA's gun held to Richie's head.  
  
Piece of cake.  
  
Hannibal figured Face would be on his way to a hospital within a half-hour after the plane arrived.  
  
It had been another long night. Murdock was so wound up, Hannibal finally slipped him the knockout pill he'd been saving for BA. He'd be awake in plenty of time for the flight, and hopefully be in better shape to deal with Face on his own.  
  
That part bothered Hannibal a lot. He had hoped Murdock would hold it together longer than this, but then he hadn't expected Face to sour, either. Well, he really didn't have a lot to do, once he got the plane in the air. Just radio for help and go where he was told to. He had the map with their position on it, so he would turn that over to the authorities. It sounded so simple, but Hannibal was worried anyway.  
  
They were getting Face ready for the flight now. Hannibal had enough painkiller left to give him a full dose, but he held back. Face was out of it, anyway. Instead, Hannibal bundled the syringe and meds together and taped it to the stretcher. He also had written a complete history of the accident and subsequent actions for the doctors.  
  
Finally, everything was ready. Hannibal went over every detail in his head, trying to find any flaws. He glanced down at Face.  
  
"I could really use you now, kid. This plan has got to go without a hitch."  
  
*****  
  
Roger and Zach weren't too sure about their role in Smith's plan. It took the gun to Spiro's head and a nod from him to convince them not to cause problems. Spiro must have some plan in mind; he was being awfully cooperative with Smith. Confident in their own leader's abilities, they moved out to the shoreline, acting as normally as possible.  
  
About five minutes to noon, they all could hear the distant drone of the plane. Everyone tensed up. From his hidden vantage point, Hannibal watched the men on the beach; BA had Spiro and the other two. Murdock, who had been kneeling by the stretcher, stood and watched the sky. In moments, the seaplane could be seen coming through a cleft in the hills on the far side of the lake. Murdock could feel his heart pounding. He couldn't mess this up. He wouldn't mess it up.  
  
Hannibal looked away from the men on the beach, eyes drawn to the small plane as it got closer and closer. He almost willed it to start the approach, watching as it started dipping lower to the water. Then, just as he thought the plane would touch the water, the plane suddenly lifted up again and started swinging around, heading back away from the shore. He stood in agonized surprise as the plane continued to lift and then disappeared over the hills.  
  
For a moment, no one said a word, no one moved. And then Murdock lost it. He ran screaming across the sand and into the water, waving his arms in the air, beating at the water as it came up to his hips. Hannibal remained where he was, calmly watching Murdock, not paying any attention to the two men on the beach, who were moving slowly back toward the camp, confused themselves as to what had just happened. BA roughly tied their hands and left them, marching across the sand and into the water, pulling the now still Murdock back onto the shore. BA let him slide down to the sand, where Murdock sat, staring out at the water, mumbling to himself.  
  
BA came up next to Hannibal, turning so he could watch Murdock.  
  
"They musta had a signal or somethin to let the pilot know if he should land or not."  
  
"Yeah. Yeah, must have."  
  
"Nothin more you could do, Hannibal. Richie woulda never told you what it was. I don't think his men even knew."  
  
Hannibal didn't answer. What was there to say? Richie had held the trump card all along. They never had a chance with the plane. The time they'd spent hiking here...they would have been on the highway by now, on their way to that little town. The little town where they could have called for help. Help that they wouldn't need now.  
  
"Hannibal?" BA was looking at him now, worried at the lack of response, the lack of anger, the lack of emotion. "Hannibal, we'll figure somethin else out."  
  
"Something else, BA? There is nothing else. I gambled on this and lost. Face..." Hannibal turned, looked over at Spiro, who said nothing but raised his eyebrow in question. Give up now, Smith? He might as well have spoken out loud.  
  
Hannibal moved slowly, mechanically over to the group of prisoners. He grabbed Roger's hands and with a quick jerk, pulled the ropes from his wrists. He then shoved him to one side. BA started moving up, not understanding what Hannibal was doing. Was he letting these guys go?  
  
Hannibal stepped calmly over to Spiro, who now had a satisfied smile on his face. Not a wide smile, not a smirk; just...satisfied. Without saying a word, Hannibal pulled his service revolver and calmly shot Spiro dead center in the lower leg. Just below the knee. Spiro let out a yell and fell to the sand. The other men jumped back, expecting more shots, this time in their direction. Instead, Hannibal looked at Roger.  
  
"Take care of him."  
  
Then, revolver still in his hand, Hannibal walked over to the litter, and sat down beside it.


	19. Chapter 19

BA was trying to talk to him, but Hannibal didn't want to listen. He was saying something about Spiro. As if Hannibal cared. Finally, mercifully, BA stalked away, went over to deal with Murdock. Good. Hannibal didn't want to think about Murdock right now either. He didn't want to think. Not right now.  
  
He looked at his lieutenant. Really looked at him. Noticed that he was wearing his hair a lot longer than Hannibal had realized. He'd have to give him some shit about that. No. No, he wouldn't. Let him wear it as long as he wanted to. What did it matter? Face did his job. He always did his job.  
  
"You would have known something was wrong about that plane, wouldn't you? You would have seen this coming from a mile away." He sighed. Looked down at the revolver, hanging from his fingers. Reached over, twirled the cylinder. Five shots left. Twirled it again.  
  
He looked down at the leg. The bandages needed changing again. The yellowish stain that ran through the center was creeping toward the edges now. He'd have BA help him move Face back in the tent, get it cleaned up. He could do that much. He looked at the syringe, taped to the stretcher. There was enough painkiller for a full dose and a little more. He stared at it. Looked at the revolver. Closed his eyes and took a deep breath. He really needed to change those bandages.  
  
He could do that much.  
  
*****  
  
"Murdock."  
  
"Huh?" Murdock looked up, startled by the voice. He looked around, confused as to where he was. He saw the water, the surrounding woods and mountains, but he just couldn't put it all together.  
  
"Murdock, c'mon. You gotta get outta those wet clothes."  
  
Wet? He looked down. He was wet. Soaking wet. How did that happen? Obligingly, he stood and looked around. Where were his clothes? This didn't look at all like the VA.  
  
"C'mon, man. Over in the tent. Over here."  
  
Murdock felt a hand on his arm and realized it was BA talking to him. No wonder the voice sounded familiar. He allowed himself to be led over to a campsite. He glanced to the side and saw Hannibal, sitting on the ground next to a bundle of clothes. Odd.  
  
"In here. Get changed, then we gotta talk. All of us."  
  
Okay. No problem. He stepped into the tent, and rummaged through the backpacks until he found some of his clothes. He dumped the wet clothes on the ground; he'd take them down to the laundry chute later. He stepped back out of the tent and wandered over to a stool that was sitting there, just waiting for him. Looked around for BA. He was over talking to Hannibal. Murdock waited a few more minutes, and then BA straightened up, shook his head and came over.  
  
"What's up, Big Guy? Laundry day today, huh? I didn't know Hannibal brought his stuff over here, too."  
  
BA looked at him, puzzled. "What you talkin about, fool?"  
  
Now it was Murdock's turn to look puzzled. He nodded at the Colonel. "Hannibal's laundry. I didn't know he brought it to the VA. Must be a new service, huh?"  
  
Murdock could've sworn BA was getting all teary-eyed. Nah, BA didn't do that. Must have just gotten something in them.  
  
"Ok, yeah, Murdock. You just sit there for a while, okay? Just...wait for me." BA moved away, walking over to another group of patients.  
  
Murdock sat, his face lifted to the sun, basking in the warmth of another beautiful day. He hoped Face would come and break him out soon.  
  
*****  
  
"Hannibal, Murdock's changin clothes. Then we really gotta talk. We gotta figure out what we're gonna do next. Hannibal."  
  
"We need to get Face back inside. I have to change the bandages. There are fresh ones in the tent yet."  
  
"Okay, Hannibal. But then we gotta talk."  
  
"There's nothing to talk about, BA. It's over. We're done here."  
  
"What about Richie? I mean, man, Hannibal, I never figured you to shoot an unarmed man. Now we gotta take care of two men."  
  
"No, we don't, BA. Richie's got his own people. Let them worry about him."  
  
"Hannibal..."  
  
"I said...just let it go, BA. Turn them loose. Give them the med kit and one horse and turn them loose."  
  
"The med kit? But, Hannibal, we're gonna need that for Face."  
  
"Don't worry about Face, BA. There's nothing left in that kit that he can use anyway. Just be sure to keep one horse."  
  
"What's goin on, Colonel?"  
  
"Never mind, BA. I'll take care of it. Now go untie that filth and get them out of here." Hannibal looked up at him, saw the worry. "It'll be okay, BA." He smiled softly. "Go untie them and then help me get Face inside."  
  
BA stood, shaking his head. He didn't like this, not one bit.  
  
He walked over to Murdock, who started talking gibberish about laundry. It took BA a minute to realize what he was really saying. He stared down at the pilot, shocked. Damn. Damn. They were all fallin apart. Hannibal plannin God knows what, Murdock gone round the bend...and where was he? What was BA Baracus doin? Tryin to act like everything would work out, tryin to act like Face was gonna make it, that everything would get back to normal...He looked at Murdock, told him to just sit and wait. He moved toward the prisoners.  
  
Who was crazy now?  
  
*****  
  
Spiro was lying on the ground, pale and sweating. Roger was just finishing up bandaging the bullet wound. He looked up as BA came over, his automatic pointed at the group.  
  
"We need something for a splint. The bone's smashed."  
  
"Ain't that too bad? You got 10 minutes to take two tents, the med kit and one horse. What you do with them is your choice. I'll have some food ready for you. Then you get your asses out of here."  
  
"What about our guns? We can't go through this place without weapons."  
  
"You gonna have a rough trip then."  
  
BA strode away, listening carefully for any sounds he was being followed. He quickly threw some staples together in a pack and hauled it over to the men. They were standing there sullenly, one packhorse ready. BA saw the med kit stacked neatly on top. He had a moment of indecision about that. Then reality hit with full force and he said nothing as the men moved off, carrying Spiro on a makeshift litter.  
  
Now they'd know what it was like. Somehow, BA didn't think Spiro would last as long as Face.  
  
*****  
  
BA buried the last of the soiled bandages. He went back inside the tent, watching Hannibal. He was carefully filling the syringe with the last of the painkiller. BA wondered about that, knowing Face was oblivious to everything anyway. Hannibal looked up at him, smiled sadly. He placed the syringe on the stretcher, ready.  
  
"I'm going to take a walk, clear my head. You might want to stay with him...I don't think we need to say anything to Murdock, do you?"  
  
"Murdock thinks he's at the VA, Hannibal. But I'll stay with Face until you come back. No problem." He pretended not to understand what Hannibal had said. "You go take your walk. Do you good."  
  
Hannibal nodded and walked out into the woods. He saw Murdock skipping stones on the beach and smiled. It was good to see him happy after all of this. He had an idea he'd stay that way for a while. Long enough anyway.  
  
He didn't go far into the trees. Just far enough so he couldn't see the camp, or the lake. He stood for a few minutes, just listening to the sounds of the deep woods. Birds he didn't recognize. Animals up in the trees, squirrels of some sort. The wind brushing the leaves as it went by. He felt like he was seeing this forest for the first time since they'd arrived. It felt...surreal.

"Well, Face, you couldn't ask for a prettier place, you know. Hell of a lot better than some warehouse in LA, right?" He looked around again, smiling as he'd done when he'd watched Murdock. Yes, this was a good place.  
  
He turned then, and walked slowly back to the tent. BA looked at him closely when he came in, and, without another word, left. Hannibal sat down by the cot, and picked up the syringe. Very gently, he slid the needle into Face's arm, and emptied it.  
  
He sat back, looking once more at his lieutenant. He would wait a few minutes, to make sure the medication was working. He wanted there to be no pain. There had already been too much.  
  
So he sat, and waited, idly twirling the cylinder of his revolver.


	20. Chapter 20

BA stood outside the tent. Half of him wanted to go back in there and pull that gun from Hannibal's hand and throw it in the woods. The other half was a mixture of sorrow and shame. Sorrow that it had to be, and shame that he didn't have the guts to do it himself.  
  
But there was one thing he could do. One thing he knew Face would worry about. He could take care of Murdock. He could be there with Murdock when the shot came, and divert his attention, and keep him from going into the tent. Yeah, he could take care of Murdock, maybe not like Face had, but Face wouldn't have to worry about him.  
  
He could do that much.  
  
He moved calmly away from the tent and out to the shore, where Murdock was trying, unsuccessfully it seemed, to skip stones over the water. The waves were a little too choppy, and he was getting a little frustrated.  
  
"Hey, BA. Y'know, I just can't get this to work. I never could. I don't understand it. Face can skip 'em for miles, and he keeps trying to show me how, and I just can never do it. Why d'you suppose that is?"  
  
"Water's too rough, fool. Gotta have smooth water to skip 'em right. They're just hittin' the waves now. You wait until the wind goes down."  
  
"You think so?" Murdock looked out over the lake. "It's funny, I don't remember there being a lake here before. They musta just built it." He got a puzzled frown on his face. "You'd think I woulda noticed them building it, though."  
  
"Don't worry about it. It's here now."  
  
"Okay..." Murdock sighed. "BA..."  
  
"Yeah, Murdock?"  
  
"Face isn't coming to get me out any more, is he?"  
  
"What?" BA turned and looked at Murdock, startled.  
  
"Well, I mean, that's why you're here, isn't it? Face finally decided to go out on his own, didn't he?"  
  
Damn. BA didn't how much was real and how much was crazy for the pilot. "Uh, yeah, yeah, he did, Murdock. He, uh..." BA swallowed, "he asked me to tell you goodbye. He woulda told you himself, but..."  
  
"I know. He doesn't like 'scenes'. And if he had come to say goodbye, he wouldn't have left in the end."  
  
"He wouldn't?"  
  
"Nope." Murdock sounded smug and happy. "You know why? 'Cause I woulda talked him out of going. I would've had to, you know. 'Cause if he goes out on his own, he'd get into trouble. He always did, remember, in Nam? He'd go out on the town by himself, and I'd always have to go get him out of fights - all those guys he scammed and then they'd get mad at him...I always took care of him..."  
  
BA looked out at the water, the waves rolling in and out.  
  
"I tried to, anyway. I really did..."  
  
"I know you did, fool. And you did a good job. Ain't gotta have no regrets."  
  
Murdock sighed, and threw another rock into the lake. He was about to throw another when he stopped, arm in mid-air. He cocked his head, and started looking up into the sky.  
  
"D'you hear that?"  
  
BA looked over at him. "Hear what?"  
  
"That! Listen..."  
  
BA looked up, searching the sky. He could hear something...a humming noise. What the...  
  
He and Murdock were scanning the skies in earnest now. The noise was coming closer. Getting louder.  
  
"There! There, look, BA! It's one of those seaplanes! Wow! See the pontoons? Man, you think it's gonna land here?" Murdock was as excited as a child.  
  
BA just stood, in shock. It was a seaplane. It was flying over the lake, at the far end. Murdock started yelling and waving his arms.  
  
"Hey, come over here, beauty! C'mon, sweetheart, let me see you close up. C'mon, baby!"  
  
For a moment, BA thought the plane would just keep going. And then it started turning. Coming right at them. The wings waggled and it started floating down, straight for them.  
  
"HANNIBAL!" BA moved faster than he thought he ever had in his life. "HANNIBAL!"  
  
*****  
  
Face was ready. His breathing had eased to a nice, slow, steady rhythm, like a very deep sleep. His features had relaxed, no more pinched look to his face, just calm.  
  
And still, Hannibal waited.  
  
It wasn't that he had doubts about what he was about to do. Face wouldn't have just slipped away; it wouldn't have been a 'peaceful release', whatever the hell that was supposed to be. No, just watching the way Face had relaxed with the painkiller was enough to tell Hannibal he was right.  
  
It didn't make it easy.  
  
He felt like he should say something to him, some final words, but that wasn't Hannibal's style. Wasn't Face, either. Too melodramatic. If Hannibal had ever tried to express his feelings out loud, Face would have run like hell in the other direction. No, if Face didn't know how much Hannibal liked and respected him by now...  
  
Hannibal sighed deeply. Well, there was no point putting this off any longer. He stood, bringing the revolver up and cocking it. He'd already decided it would be through the heart. Face would never forgive him if he shot him in the head. He smiled a little at that, as he gently positioned the barrel over the chest.  
  
"I'll miss you, kid."  
  
"HANNIBAL!"  
  
Hannibal's arm jerked as he fired, the bullet slicing through the side of the tent. What the hell...?  
  
"No, Hannibal!" BA came tearing into the tent, panic on his face.  
  
"BA! Damn it, you know I have to..."  
  
"No, Hannibal, there's a plane comin in. A plane, man! We got a way to get him out!"  
  
Hannibal felt ice cold. Dear God in Heaven, he'd almost...he couldn't believe it. A plane?  
  
"C'mon, Hannibal! We gotta get Face out of here. Now!"  
  
The tent flap was opened wide, and a white-faced Gordon Benford rushed in. "What was that shot? What's going on?"  
  
"Nothing, nothing. What are you doing here? How...?" Hannibal felt like he was in a madly rushing dream.  
  
"Some tourists saw your plane a couple days ago. The Mounties tracked me down, and we've been looking for you guys all over. It was just by chance we flew over this place and saw Murdock and BA on the beach. Is everybody okay? Where's..." That's when Gordon saw Face. "Oh my God. Is he...?"  
  
"He's alive, barely. We have to get him to a hospital."  
  
"Well, let's go then. There's room in the plane for all of us."


	21. EPILOGUE

Hannibal was just hanging up the phone as BA came in, looking somewhat alarmed.  
  
"Everything okay?"  
  
"Everything's okay. I was just checking with the VA, see how Murdock is. Glad Face had ‘Uncle George’ set up for him. Saves a lot of hassle."  
  
"Yeah. So how's he doing?"  
  
"Better. Dr. Bennett agreed to let him come visit 'Cousin Henry' in a few days. He thinks actually seeing him will help a lot."  
  
"What, he don't still think Face is..."  
  
"He says he knows he's okay, but the doc doesn't know if he really believes it or not. But like I said, he'll be able to see for himself in a few days. They just want to make sure he's stable enough for the trip. Even so, they're only letting him stay for a day or two."  
  
BA nodded. He'd been really worried about Murdock. Even when they got everybody on the plane, the fool had acted like Face was just a pile of laundry. He'd ignored him the whole trip, just kept bugging the Mountie pilot about flying and the Mounties and Canada in general. Benford had arranged for Murdock's return to the VA, while Hannibal had invented a story about a hunting accident. At least he was where he needed to be now.  
  
"Oh, and Gordon called again. The Mounties finally found Richie."  
  
"And...?"  
  
"Well, they'll just be trying the other four."  
  
BA nodded. He'd figured that would happen. He felt little regret. He looked at Hannibal.  
  
"You okay with that?"  
  
Hannibal's features hardened. "I'm okay with that. If he hadn't spooked those horses and lied about the plane, I wouldn't have..." he broke off, stood looking out into space.  
  
"You wouldn't'a had to point that gun at Face." BA stepped closer. "Hannibal, you were only gonna do what you thought was best. And you woulda been right."  
  
"And if that plane had come two minutes later? If I'd fired two seconds earlier? Would you still think it was the right thing to do?"  
  
"Knowin what we knew at the time, yeah, Hannibal, yeah, I woulda. Sure, I woulda raised hell at first. But I woulda come down on your side in the end. And plane or no plane, you'd'a felt like hell the rest of your life. But it still woulda been the right thing to do."  
  
Hannibal didn't say anything, just jerked a cigar out of his pocket and lit it.  
  
"So, ready to go?"  
  
"You gonna tell him, Hannibal?"  
  
"I don't know. I don't know if he'd thank me or hate me. Some day, maybe. Maybe ask him what he would've done, what he would've wanted. When I hear that, then I'll know."  
  
BA nodded again, and they left the apartment. Twenty minutes later they were at the hospital, heading for Face's room.  
  
He was sleeping when they arrived, as usual, and they sat quietly on either side of the bed. BA picked up the Popular Mechanics he'd left there the day before and read that. Hannibal just sat, watching the machines, looking at the man in the bed, staring out of the window. He still had a hard time believing Face was alive. No wonder Murdock was shaky on that. They had come so close...and not only at the camp. Hell, Face had only been moved out of the ICU the day before, nearly a week after being admitted. The doctors still weren't totally happy with his progress, but they weren't as concerned as they had been.  
  
So far, they'd been able to save the leg, too. He had two steel rods in there now, but the doctors said once it was healed, it would be just as strong as ever. There was still a chance the infection would make a comeback, but they were pumping him full of drugs to try and prevent that, and were optimistic.  
  
It was going to take a long time before Face was himself again, that they knew. It wasn't just a matter of the leg. He'd almost had a complete system shutdown, and he would have to take it easy in a number of areas for a while. And then start building himself back up again. That was okay. They had all the time in the world.  
  
He looked up when he heard a sigh coming from the bed. Face had his eyes open, looking lazily around the room. He saw Hannibal, and smiled tiredly. Hannibal grinned back.  
  
"Hey, kid."


End file.
